Seascape
by Aevium
Summary: As the two grow closer over the course of Grand Line, Zoro's curiosity chips away at a delicate truth behind Sanji's ostensibly foolish dream. Pre-Timeskip, Zoro/Sanji
1. A View

**AN:** The opening line is from the movie _T__he Prestige. _The line had a weird impact on me and suited one of the themes for this story, so I had to open with it.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Seascape

Chapter 1: _A View_

— ~ ≈ ~ —

"_There's this sailor's tale that drowning is like going home..._

It's that kind of feeling that he'd never really understood. A pirate's life on the sea. People were land-born, meant for the gravel and the dirt beneath their feet. To him, the boundary lay with sand between toes, standing at the border between land and water; man and fish. To him, when he'd first set out on the sea, he'd never really understood that feeling. Because to belong somewhere was home. And how could a person, born on land, ever feel welcomed cradled by the ocean's waves?

But he was always up for a challenge.

And that's why he set out on those unfamiliar, foreign waters. To fulfill a promise made on land, and to transcend it wherever it took him. Even if it meant fulfilling it on the ocean. Just because he didn't understand that feeling didn't mean he wouldn't rise to the challenge.

When he'd first delved into a pirate's life, he understood. At least, that's what he'd been fooled into believing. It was only through sheer comparison that he became aware of the sea's trickery. He observed their captain, and discovered that his attachment to the sea was due to the freedom that came with it. He'd rarely call himself naïve—not in many situations—but that was one of them; when he had echoed his captain's feelings in an attempt to understand. Nami and Usopp seemed to do the same, echoing that feeling of freedom and adventure that the ocean provoked.

It had seemed normal, at the time. But by sheer comparison—when that damn cook came along—only then did he realize he'd been mistaken.

It wasn't like feeling what Luffy felt was wrong in of itself. Luffy and the crew were genuinely attached to the sea. But the difference between what the crew felt, and what the cook felt—it was massive in comparison. While the crew was attached to the feelings the sea provoked and roused within them—freedom, adventure and dreams—the cook was simply attached to the ocean. In the purest sense; he seemed to nearly merge. He'd never been too perceptive when it came to observing other people on an intimate level, but this trait in the cook spoke very loudly to him. He'd noticed it after their time in Arlong Park, when they'd begun sailing together as five on Merry.

And after discovering this, he was lost again. He'd lost his grasp on the feeling, realizing that the cook was different from the rest. Different from himself. He would bet that most sailors, marines, pirates—whomever it be roaming past and present on waves—most of them wouldn't compare with the love that cook felt for the sea. He was simply attached, utterly and completely, for no other reason than that, or for _every_ reason.

It had been this quality in the cook which made Zoro find something not to hate about him—because it was something he didn't understand about him. He didn't understand that feeling. And it was something that he wanted to figure out; a hidden challenge. He wasn't sure if he wanted to feel it for himself—if he was even capable of such a thing—or if he just wanted to rise to the challenge. The latter seemed more believable, in his case.

But one thing he did know was that it fascinated him. How could a man love the sea so purely?

_...but what kind of a death would it be, to become the sea?"_

— ~ ≈ ~ —

"Nami-swaan!" the blond chirruped, swirling over to their navigator's side in an instant. "Don't sully your delicate hands; I'll carry these bags for you!"

Zoro rolled his eyes at the cook's behaviour, and at Nami's as she handed her bags over hypnotically, too attracted to something shiny in the next shop's display window to give him her typically annoyed response. The cook took them with delight, all hearts and smiles, asking Nami if she liked the bracelet she saw, because he would gladly give the shopkeeper a beat-down for some kind of discount. Nami refused, of course, saying she didn't want any trouble. Zoro on the other hand felt like she just wanted to bargain or steal it instead.

That was her expertise, after all.

"Hey, shitty cook," he spoke up behind the clutter of groceries and designer shoes and fuck if he knew what else he was currently carrying. "What are you doing carrying those wimpy bags while I've got all this shit?"

Sanji, upon hearing that grumbling baritone vomit that he'd come to call the marimo's voice, promptly dropped his love cook demeanour and twisted it into disgusted ensemble of aggravation. "What was that, marimo? Can't handle it? Need my help?"

Zoro's expression went from bored irritation to rage immediately. "You're questioning my masculinity when you're the one carrying pink and floral gift bags? I'm not your pack-mule, is all!"

Infuriated now, Sanji stomped towards Zoro's head which was peeking past a mountain of goods. "That's exactly what you are!" He antagonized the swordsman further by sticking his face in close, almost nose-to-nose. "You're a lazy, iron-pumping alcoholic so you might as well make yourself useful with all of that strength, mule."

"That's it, cook!" There was a loud clatter as he dropped all of the goods to the ground, and then a metallic swish as he unsheathed two swords. "I'll slice you alive!"

Sanji stepped back from the mess Zoro had just made in the middle of the walkway. "You idiot marimo, dropping all of Nami-san's things! And all of the groceries—I'll make you clean it up, bastard!"

The rev-up to their impending fight was cut short by Nami's fists on their heads, simultaneously smacking them both to the ground in an impressive show of rage. "Cut it out, you two! Pick everything up and let's head back to the ship!"

"Yes, Nami-san..." Sanji said weakly but dotingly, his cheek pressed into cobblestone.

"Bitch..." Zoro grumbled, rising to his feet whilst rubbing the top of his head.

"Hey, don't call her that, bastard—" Another strike from their navigator, which left Sanji holding the side of his face.

"I said enough, Sanji-kun! We need to get back, there's a storm coming from the north and I'd like to miss its arrival, thank you very much!" Nami scolded, a shaking fist in front of her in warning.

Sanji complied, and began picking up Nami's things first and foremost. Nami herself walked ahead, leaving the two to obtain the dropped items. "Damn shithead," he grumbled to Zoro. "I'll bet some of our things were swiped off the ground without us even knowing."

"Don't blame me you idiot, you shouldn't have provoked the guy holding it all."

"Oh, that's right, _pack-mule_."

Zoro twitched.

It was around sundown as they continued to grumble insults and profanities to each other, surprisingly maintaining it as only verbal threats from there on out. This side of the cook Zoro wasn't too fond of. There were times, he could admit, that getting a rise out of the idiot was actually kind of amusing. Especially when he managed to embarrass him around Nami and Robin. But... well, it wasn't like he cared about being hated. That sort of thing had never bothered him much. In all honesty, he didn't know what _was_ bothering him, in the end.

The shitty cook was just annoying and tetchy. And he settled with that.

After the two had collected all of the dropped items, they made it back to the ship without fail. Mostly due to Sanji's lead. Nami scolded them for being slightly late, and Sanji indulged in her attention towards him, while Zoro made sure to ignore her nagging and went off to lift some weights.

Sanji put away most of the groceries in the stockroom, and carried the rest to the kitchen to stock the fridge and prepare for dinner. On his way up, he noticed some angry looking clouds in the distance behind the island they were docked at. The storm Nami-san had mentioned earlier... if they left now, they would probably miss it as it travelled south. Glancing down at the main deck, he saw that Nami was staring at the clouds too, scrutinizing, and then she began shouting orders to get the ship off of the docking. She didn't sound worried, just demanding. The blond smiled dazedly, thinking how much he loved it when Nami-san gave orders. Her sudden glare towards him snapped him out of it as she told him to get the sails unfurled with Usopp. Dinner preparations would have to wait. He put down the items he'd been carrying inside of the galley by the door and made his way to the rope ladder with enthusiasm.

Together he and Usopp released the sails and made sure to tie them properly to the mast. The wind picked up in his hair and he felt a sense of exhilaration. He didn't know why storms magnetized him so effectively, but he knew which part he loved the most—the built up, calm fury before the main event. These cool gusts breezing past with gradual power, inflating the sails to their aid and the bubbling of sooty clouds as they menacingly approached. What was there not to love about this building anticipation?

These thoughts must have been evident on his face because Usopp spoke up with a grin. "You look ready to take on the world, Sanji!" he said loudly, competing with the wind.

The cook smiled back and said smoothly. "What kind of a pirate doesn't enjoy a good storm?"

Usopp mumbled something about his sanity before Nami's footsteps and voice interrupted. "Don't get too attached, Sanji-kun, because we're out of here. Usopp, take the helm! Luffy, you, ah..." Their captain was in his typical spot on Merry's head at the front. "Luffy... should really just stay there, shouldn't he?" she said, half to herself and half to them. They nodded in complete synchronization, no arguments.

As Usopp ran inside, Sanji gazed in the direction of their dull-witted captain and saw Zoro—as usual—standing nearby, leaning on the rail. A sudden gust of wind blew off Luffy's hat as the ship began to move with the wind's push, and an unnaturally stretched arm caught it before it got too far. He noticed the way Zoro straightened up from his relaxed position, clearly making sure Luffy wasn't about to fall below into the water's trap. Luffy turned back and smiled, shining through the miserable weather, exclaiming that he'd almost lost his precious hat.

Zoro simply told him to keep it on his damn head.

Sanji didn't know what it was about the interaction that made him release an unconscious smile, but when the marimo turned a cold glare his way, he wiped the smirk off his face and sent a frown right back. Hands in his pockets, he turned around and headed to the galley to finally begin dinner preparations—for Nami seemed to be at ease with their progress—and he maintained that expression, genuine and cold as it was.

It wasn't that he hated their arguments, or their rivalry, whatever it was. He accepted that not everyone got along—he of all people knew that—and the marimo was definitely a pain in the ass. The lazy, grunting Neanderthal that he was. It just didn't gel with him either that the simple act of a smile in his general direction—despite the fact that he'd mainly been amused by Luffy—was met with such a cold, negative reaction. And it's not that he wanted a positive reaction either. Like hell he'd want that marimo bastard to smile at him, like _hell_. As if the apathetic asshole was even capable of it.

No, it wasn't that. He just hated that condescending glare. Every movement he made seemed to be an issue to the swordsman, as if he was somehow below the marimo. Everything was a competition between them. Not that he'd prefer peace between them, not that at all... and fuck the marimo for being so hideously rude towards their lovely new crewmate, Robin-chan. Treating a woman like that was unforgiveable. He'd have to give him several beatings for it later on.

He guessed the only good thing that came out of Zoro's hatred for him was that it reminded him of life on the Baratie. He smiled, thinking that somehow everywhere he went, he managed to get under people's skin. He didn't know whether to proud of it or not, but in Zoro's case, he was rather content. Other than in moments like before.

But the marimo was an asshole, end of story. He didn't owe him anything other than toleration during the entirety of their journey together.

In the galley, he began to slice up vegetables for a large stew. He stopped briefly mid-chop, mulling over his previous thought and feeling somewhat unsettled about it, before resuming the comforting task of preparing his ingredients.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

He stared at it in the light of the sun's rise, its set, and its rays at midday. He gazed at what little he could see of it in the moonlight. Hell, he was persistent enough to do so even when the night was moonless, completely dependant on the small amount of light that the stars omitted. That cook watched the water like a fish, barely blinking. Like a rock, barely moving. Always stared, at all sides of the ship; at every angle, a stream of rising smoke the only thing that consistently showed life. Zoro could only surmise that Sanji on watch duty was the best of them all. For someone who had lived on a restaurant in the sea for however long, you'd think the guy would get a little sick of his surrounding waters.

On watch and making sure to train, Zoro practiced with his swords; empty swipes and footwork. Occasionally he stopped to make sure the waters hugging Merry were not trespassed, but he soon continued where he left off. He twirled his swords in both hands, their strong steel shimmering in the peeking light over the horizon, and he struck forward in a dangerous dance.

That attachment the cook had with the ocean; he wondered if he could say the same about himself on land. But from what he could remember, he'd only used his hometown's environment for training—physically with its support and mentally with his meditation. Very rarely did he stop with a set gaze like the cook did towards the sea. Though he almost smiled at the memory of one notably strong connection. Something that Kuina had shown him a long time ago, when he'd been particularly hard on himself after yet another defeat.

Zoro paused, his arms retreating to his sides as he stood still, shaking his head slightly. Why was he making comparisons between himself and the cook on such a level? What did he care if the idiot liked to stare at the water far too much?

Hearing a noise from under the deck, Zoro sheathed his swords and began to walk towards the stern of the ship. Now that the sun was rising, the crew was starting to rouse and so his time for training was up with the ship's empty decks. It was probably the cook anyway, and he didn't feel like having any interaction with him. Sanji, who'd now opened the floor latch, probably only saw his back as Zoro ascended the stairs, soon passing Nami's mikan trees. He heard echoing steps lead into the storage room, probably heading for the bathroom.

Bending down to grab the weight he'd left in his typical spot on the galley's outside wall, he peered into the window, seeing mostly a reflection of himself due to small amount of full light that the early dawn offered. But inside the galley was cold and dark, unused. The morning was so quiet that Zoro could hear the cook running water in the bathroom below as he turned away from the galley's back window. Once facing the sea at the ship's backend, one weight in his hand, he watched the rippling trail Merry left in the water and allowed it to lead his eyes to the vast horizon before him. Why, at any and every time in the day, did this fascinate the cook so? Admittedly the view of the sunrise was nice, he supposed, but the water tended to be the cook's primary sight of interest.

Zoro turned away from the scene, sliding down to sit as he started to rhythmically lift his dumbbell. Footsteps made him glance uncontrollably to his left, where he saw the cook's blond head appear over the top of the stairs. At first he'd been preparing himself to see more of the cook's body, ascending, but he then realized that Sanji wasn't on the stairs, and instead moving toward the side of the ship. Zoro turned his attention back to his weightlifting as he heard the familiar flick of the cook's lighter.

And he was doing it again. Eyes like a fish, body like a rock; a rising stream of smoke the only indication that he was still living on this ship and not merged with the sea.

Feigning disinterest, he got back to his comfortable workout on the floor. He made small glances to his left and, sure enough, the cook hadn't budged. Eventually Zoro stopped his glimpses and positioned himself on one hand—the other behind his back clutching the dumbbell—beginning a set of one-handed push-ups, switching arms in between sets. Not looking in the cook's direction often anymore, he made an exception and peered over amidst his workout. This time, that blond head had disappeared.

Probably went to the kitchen without him noticing. Though, curiously, he didn't see the room illuminated from the window in his view.

He did some more sets before glancing over again, only to see the cook appear again. Breathing out heavily, he stopped and rose to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. Now standing, he saw that the cook was rummaging around with something in his pocket. It was then that he finally looked in Zoro's direction with just a flash of surprise, before deforming it into the scowl typically accompanied by eye contact between the two.

Zoro glowered back at him. It was their standard morning greeting. Actually it was their standard greeting period.

His boots clonked on the deck's wood as he made his way over to the stairs. Sanji stared up at him with disinterest. "Good to see you're actually awake after your watch, marimo. But what _ever_ will you do without your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up, cook. I've caught you asleep on watch more than once, damn hypocrite."

Sanji nearly spat at him. "It's excusable considering I get up early to work around the clock. And I don't take naps in broad daylight either, you lazy shithead."

"What is this, your bitching hour?" Zoro retorted, and added: "Then again that's every hour."

Sanji rose to the antagonism. "What was that, algae head? You want a permanent shoeprint engraved on your forehead, or what?"

Zoro decided to cool the situation off, somewhat. Somehow he didn't feel like turning this into a physical fight, which was abnormal for his temper when it came to the cook. "Go start breakfast already, you shit cook. Luffy'll be up soon and I'd rather not hear his whining when he finds you here slacking."

The blond breathed out shortly, sounding almost amused. "If you want my food, you don't need to hide it behind that façade."

"Like hell I want shitty food from a shitty cook."

Sanji glowered at him then. He always got heated up after an insult about his cooking. "Fine by me. Starve, then." The blond stepped up the stairs, brushing by Zoro's shoulder coldly before making his way into the kitchen, and slamming the door shut.

Somehow that reaction had been harsher than usual. What was going on, here? Shrugging, Zoro went downstairs onto the main deck and into the bathroom before the wave of his drowsy, sleep-ridden crewmates conquered it instead.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Sanji was grumbling curse words as he expertly swirled the pancake mix around in a large metal bowl. Its metallic clanks somehow further agitated him, and he stopped, setting the bowl down roughly before stalking over to the fridge, searching for the fresh fruit he'd picked up yesterday at port. Which Zoro had so ungraciously dropped, the idiot. He'd been sure to wash everything thoroughly.

Fucking marimo should have been the one to do it, though.

Sanji sighed as he closed the fridge, several fruits gathered in his hands. He could tell that today would be one of those days in which Zoro's face miraculously appeared on a variety of ingredients to which he had the pleasure of slicing, grinding, and pummelling.

The cook's aggravated preparations continued, and thirty minutes later Luffy barged into the galley screaming Sanji's name and demanding food. Sanji, being the skilled chef that he was, had managed to prepare all of the food needed to satisfy Luffy's bottomless stomach—and of course the rest of the crew of whom required, disgustingly, only a small percentage compared to their captain. He was just setting everything up artistically on the table now. His reaction was swift upon Luffy's arrival from pure concentrated experience.

A kick to the face sent their energetic captain back through the door he'd just seconds ago entered. Usopp callously stepped over Luffy's twitching body and offered Sanji a good-natured—if not somewhat wary—good morning, not wanting to get on the violent cook's bad side.

And then the two women of the crew graciously walked in, flipping on the switch that was Sanji's love-cook mode and leaving his previous belligerence in the shadows. He was next to them in record time, both hands clasped together at his cheek as he swooned: "Ahh, Nami-san, Robin-chan! You both look splendid this morning, more radiant than the rising sun!"

Nami tended to do her best in the morning to disregard Sanji's dotting. "Good morning Sanji-kun."

Robin chuckled quietly to herself at his antics as usual, and responded with amusement. "Good morning, Cook-san."

The cook was love-struck and he pulled out two chairs for the ladies, offering for them to sit down. He informed them of what he had prepared for them this morning in great detail like that of an overenthusiastic waiter while Luffy, Usopp and Chopper quickly got to work on their breakfast, mannishly engorging stacks of pancakes, fruits, eggs and ham.

"Hey, you three!" Sanji scolded, appearing behind them menacingly with a strained grin. "Have some manners around the ladies, would you?"

Chopper and Usopp nodded nervously and slowed down while Luffy remained completely indifferent and placed all of his immediate focus onto swallowing the buffet before him in record time. Sanji didn't look amused in the slightest, prompting the sole of his shoe to be smashed atop Luffy's skull. Zoro arrived just as Luffy's eyes bulged, grabbing his throat before banging the table's surface repeatedly with his fist.

Sanji completely neglected the fact that he'd just induced his captain into a full-blown choking fit—righteous justice to him for being such a glutton, anyway—and gave Zoro a cold stare while Chopper promptly transformed into his human form to give Luffy abdominal compressions. Luffy continued to beat his fist on the table, his mouth swelling with food like a chipmunk, while Sanji eyed Zoro as he casually took a seat at the end, beginning to fill his plate.

Frowning, Sanji strolled over and was quick to swipe the half-filled plate from the swordsman's spot. Zoro—his hands frozen in their task—glared at him, then to the stolen plate, and back again at the cook with renewed fury in his dark eyes. He said lowly, "What the hell, cook?"

"You said you didn't want my food, and so I said you can starve instead," the blond responded, coolly but dangerously. "I don't feed ingrates."

Glaring up at the cook with enraged disbelief, Zoro then sighed in resignation, realizing that Sanji truly was in a pissy mood today. No matter, it wasn't like he couldn't live without breakfast. He'd starved for much longer than that. There was a loud screech as the legs of his chair scraped against the wooden floor, and he stood, looking perfectly calm though not exactly feeling that way. "Have it your way, cook," was all he said before stalking outside.

Sanji glared at him the entire way out. Nami and Robin looked at each other then, wondering what could have provoked this extremely harsh reaction from their cook, who normally never let anyone miss a meal. The blond's stern eyes met their questioning ones and at that moment his mouth transformed into a wide, sunny grin.

"Don't let that weed poison your lovely morning, my precious flowers!" he babbled, and then purposely changed the subject—because after all, why would he waste his breath talking to them about that useless marimo? "What beverage shall I make for you this afternoon? Something fruity and refreshing? Or would you prefer..."

He went on like that, and amidst it all Chopper had finally managed to clear Luffy's throat which had been thoroughly lodged by nearly-whole chunks of food. It was probably only thanks to the elasticity of his throat that he survived at all, currently breathing rapidly before seconds later getting back to vacuuming up all things edible in sight like nothing had happened.

Sanji sighed and got started on some clean-up, his mouth curving downwards as he stood by the sink, a pang of guilt striking him when he felt the lonely rumble of his own stomach calling out to him.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

The galley was quiet. It was far too quiet. Usually he enjoyed this length of time in its own way; washing dishes, pots and pans in peace after their always rowdy feasts. But as he stood alone in the galley, silent, he was also alone with his thoughts. And today his thoughts weren't treating him well. He scrubbed furiously at individual pieces of cutlery, the corners of his mouth forming a deep, thoughtful frown and his one visible eye concentrated on his task but also distant; lost in his ruminations.

So he had let Zoro go hungry, so what? It served the ungrateful asshole right. And it wasn't like he couldn't eat lunch, which Sanji would have to start preparing in a couple hours. It wasn't that big a deal, right? So why did he feel so ashamed of what he'd done?

It was probably his pride as a chef getting to him, feeling the need to make sure that everyone was fed, no matter how boorish, plant-like and unappreciative. Sanji chuckled to himself when he realized the irony; it was also precisely _because_ of his pride as a chef that he'd swiped that plate from Zoro to begin with.

He wet a cloth in the sink, wringed it out, and then stepped over the table to wipe it down. As he did so he caught a glimpse of the marimo through the back window, in his typical spot at the rear of the ship, training. He was surprised that he wasn't napping there, since Zoro had been on the second shift of watch last night. And it bothered him that he was straying from routine like this.

It had nothing to do with breakfast, he was sure. That marimo wouldn't get so worked up over something like that. And it'd been _nothing_ to get worked up over, he had just been giving him a rough time. The idiot had deserved it! He would feed him at lunch and everything would go back to normal anyway.

The redundancy of his thoughts made Sanji grumble under his breath with every stroke he made over the table's wooden surface. "Goddamn, marimo, idiot..." he griped.

When he straightened up—the table's surface now clean to his satisfaction—his stomach tightened and gave a particularly loud groan amidst the silence of the galley. He would've blushed had someone been there to hear it. Holding his stomach and realizing that he himself hadn't even eaten, he considered some possibilities for a small meal since Luffy and those other brutes had made absolutely certain to leave not even a scrap left. But he heard a muffled grunt from outside, seeing Zoro swiping a weight in front of him in determination... on an empty stomach.

Sanji sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he pulled up a chair and sat down. He slid down on the chair's back, extending his long legs under the table and pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pant pocket. He promptly lit up, inhaled that precious nicotine and rolled his head back on the chair, dazedly staring up at the ceiling. He exhaled slowly and watched the smoke coil and scatter above, disappearing without trace.

His stomach growled again, and he tightened his jaw, biting down slightly on the filter of his cigarette. Deciding to leave the damn organ empty, he snapped out of that hazy world of cogitations and stood, pushing the chair back into place and deciding to keep the exquisite girls some company with coffee and tea.

Ten minutes later he ambled out of the galley with a tray of coffee, tea, and various biscuits, heading towards the stairs to his left. He'd only meant for it to be a glance to the ship's rear—just a quick one to see what the marimo was up to—but he hadn't expected those dark, icy eyes staring at him as the swordsman wiped the sweat from his neck with a towel. The blond's eyes flickered away for a moment, before glaring back briefly and then turning to descend the stairs.

Zoro watched the stupid cook's feathery gait as the blond sauntered over the main deck and towards the bow. He didn't know what that idiot's problem was, but he definitely didn't like taking the brunt of it. And even he knew it wasn't in the cook's normal behaviour to let someone miss out on a meal, let alone _forcibly_ reject it upon a crewmate. He knew the cook hated him, and the feeling was mutual, but he was a _cook_ dammit, and he was aware of how much that meant to Sanji.

Okay, so he wasn't _totally_ aware. After all, realistically, he barely knew the guy. But he definitely could tell that letting someone starve wasn't in the blond's current itinerary.

He turned around with a scowl after seeing the cook affectionately hand Robin some coffee from across the ship, and then rubbed the back of his neck with a towel. Sighing, he bent down to pick up the large weight he'd been wielding minutes ago and walked over to place it in a safer spot on the galley's back wall. His eyes were tired and his stomach was empty, and so he figured it was about time for a nap to cure both of those problems. He sat down on the wall, legs sprawled out and his bare feet feeling a bout of the ocean's spray which was refreshing, but it didn't sway him from his relaxed spot on the deck.

Zoro hung his head to his chest and let his eyelids blanket his view of that blue sea.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Hours later, Sanji was again in the galley putting the finishing touches on lunch for the crew. A feast of various sandwiches, salads and vegetables that he'd placed on the table intricately. He didn't know why he still put so much effort into its aesthetic appeal—the guys always made sure destroy it in milliseconds. Either way, it wasn't like he could present anything less to his two princesses of the crew.

He groaned as he heard Luffy shouting his name from outside. Knowingly, he stepped in front of the door, keeping his distance a few feet from it and waited with his hands in his pockets. The only time Luffy was punctual was when it was time for a meal—hell, most of the time he was much too early, making ridiculous excuses such as his need for five meals a day. As soon as his captain's hurried steps were right on the other side of the door Sanji prepared his leg, and the door burst open only for the cunning cook to kick it back in its spot, smacking Luffy in the face and knocking him backwards onto wooden planks. The only shitty thing about this trick was that Sanji didn't get to see the immediate result of it, and instead the familiar wood of the galley's front door. It was like a magician without relishing in his rightful moment of prestige.

With a smirk, he opened the door and saw a pouting Luffy sitting up on the ground, rubbing his nose before staring up at the cook like he'd been betrayed. "Oww, Sanjiii... why'd you do that?"

"Because impatient idiots like you deserve it," Sanji responded, leaning over him with satisfaction. "Lunch is ready, anyway..." he began, and Luffy excitedly got to his feet and bolted. Sanji had prepared for this though and grabbed the captain's shirt from behind. "But _you_ wait until everyone else gets here. I can't have your black hole of a stomach inhaling all the food."

Luffy made an annoyed whine and sulked. "But Sanjiiii, it smells so good—" Sanji tugged on his shirt roughly, which finally made Luffy resign with a sigh. "Fiiiine."

Sanji kept a tight grip on Luffy's shirt, the boy moping so much it wasn't hard to believe he was made out of rubber which looked like it was melting. The cook called out across the deck that lunch was served. Usopp and Chopper stopped what they were doing by the mast and came rushing up the stairs. Meanwhile, Robin and Nami moved much more graciously from the ship's front.

The guys passed by a captured Luffy in the galley and stuck their tongues out at him mockingly, which provoked the captain to whine some more at Sanji to let him go. Sanji however ignored him and was instead captivated by the girls' beauty as they entered the galley.

Robin chuckled at Luffy's predicament. "My, my, Cook-san. It seems as though you've tamed our captain."

The cook blushed with an exuberant smile, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. "Well, I would do anything to make sure this idiot captain of ours doesn't ruin your lunch, you know..." Suddenly his grip on Luffy was gone, and he looked over quickly to see that the boy was already at the table gobbling away. "Hey, you...! Damn!"

Ten minutes into lunch, Sanji noticed that Zoro wasn't there. Damn idiot must've fallen asleep. After making sure Nami and Robin were completely fine with their meal and beverages, he stepped out to drag that idiot swordsman here by the collar if he had to. He himself still hadn't eaten—the only thing he'd stuck in his mouth all day were several cigarettes—and he was going to make damn sure the marimo ate himself into a stupor.

Exiting the galley with a smouldering stick in his mouth, he rounded the corner to the back of the ship and caught Zoro not sleeping but of course, by default, waving those damn weights around. His teeth clenched together. "Hey, idiot. Lunch is ready, didn't you hear me call?"

Zoro remained emotionless and continued his sets casually. It took him long to respond, which got on Sanji's already strung out nerves. "I heard."

Sanji rolled his eyes. "Good, so you're not deaf? Drop your weights and come eat," he said, turning around to begin walking back to the galley. Then he added over his shoulder, "Oh, and rinse off before you come. You smell like shit."

The jangle of Zoro's weights stopped abruptly, and they clattered as the swordsman placed them on the ground, leaning on the handle slightly. "I thought you didn't feed ingrates."

The blond looked back at him curiously, before sighing. "I feed whoever wants to be fed."

"What if I don't want to be fed, shit cook?" Zoro said, taking pleasure in stretching Sanji's nerves to their limit, like toying with the strings of a puppet.

The cook clenched his teeth and spoke through them. "I feed whoever _needs_ to be fed, then."

Zoro pondered this, and then shrugged callously. "I'll eat later. I'm training now."

Well, he had tried to be nice here to rectify the situation, so the marimo really could starve for all he cared. "Go hungry then, because Luffy won't leave anything for you to eat."

Zoro shrugged again and then picked up his weights, beginning a new round of sets. Sanji crunched the filter of his cigarette with his teeth on his way back to the galley. That stubborn son of a bitch. Come dinner time he was going to make _sure_ the idiot had a full stomach. Shit, what an asshole... that had really, _really_ pissed him off.

To his obvious prediction, after lunch there really wasn't a scrap of food left. Luffy had made sure of that. He hadn't the energy it took to salvage leftovers, and he especially didn't want to go out of his way for an unappreciative moron like Zoro. But still, his own stomach growled and it was now midway through the afternoon. If this fucking idiot was going to continue this fast and guilt-trip him into doing the same, something seriously had to be done.

It all felt so utterly stupid to him now that he'd let it brew in his mind for a while. Sure, Zoro had said something rude this morning, and sure it had insulted him. But what wasn't annoying or brusque that came out of the marimo's mouth? And he, above anyone, knew it wasn't worth skipping meals over while floating precariously on an unpredictable sea.

The cigarette in his mouth bounced as he frowned, realization striking him. This was really all so stupid. And so he stood in front of the counter with fingers encircling his chin, deep in thought. What would that swordsman not be able to resist? Zoro barely showed any signs of enjoyment whenever eating his food, or at least, nothing that could strongly indicate that the food itself was the source of his delight.

But... there'd been one time when they had caught tons of fish early after leaving port, and he had decided to make lots of snacks that would preserve the fish. Rice balls, sushi, and the like. He remembered getting a notable reaction on Zoro's face when he'd first brought it out of the galley. The marimo had eaten _a lot_ of it, rivalling even Luffy. Those kinds of foods had probably been common where the swordsman came from—not that he knew, but judging by his katana and his features, it was pretty obvious what kind of culture he'd been raised with. Though the moss on his head still remained an incredible mystery of the vast world.

Well, that settled it then. The slim cook rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He only hoped that damn marimo didn't take this as some kind of apology. It was more like... a truce. And at least he was mature enough to be the one to deliver it, literally, on a damn platter.

Half an hour later, Sanji had produced a large tray of elaborately placed onigiri for the swordsman. He picked it up and looked at the galley's door, cursing as he realized that he would have to sneak this out without anyone in the crew seeing, especially Luffy. Not just because he didn't want it to be eaten, but he didn't want his crewmates questioning him on the whole thing either. He walked over, peering out of the window, and sighed when he spotted Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp fishing at the side of the ship. They would definitely hear him open the door and think he was bringing out a midday snack.

He turned around, closing his eyes in frustration. This was becoming more of a hassle than he'd wanted. Coming up with another idea, he stalked over to the back window to check if Zoro was still relentlessly working out at the stern of the ship. He breathed out heavily in frustration when he didn't see him there. Though that probably meant he was sleeping just on the other side of the wall.

Well, that made confronting the marimo easy, since there would be no confrontation at all.

Still, he had to sneak these outside. With this idea he would have to be swift. Walking back to the door, he popped a fresh cigarette in his mouth and then swiftly turned the knob. He was quick to lift the tray up, promptly sliding it atop so that it accompanied Nami's mikan trees. Luffy, Usopp and Chopper twisted in his direction while he lit up his cigarette, looking at them coolly before walking nonchalantly to the back of the ship. And as suspected, he found a shirtless Zoro lying on the wall, his arms draped over his stomach, and his mouth open with drool as usual when he slept.

Hands in his pockets, Sanji didn't stare at the sleeping swordsman long and quietly stepped up the stairs that led to Nami's mikan trees. When he got to the top, brushing past the trees, he almost tumbled back down at the sight of Nami standing over the tray he'd just snuck above the galley's door, looking curious. She then turned in his direction.

With an amused smile, she asked, "Who are these for, Sanji-kun?"

"Ahh, well, I..." he stumbled. How was he going to explain? Lie, yes, that was the best thing to do. "They're for you of course, my lovely Nami-swan—"

"That's why you snuck them up here, and then went around from behind to pick them up?" Nami said deviously.

"Well, I thought it'd be a nice gesture of surprise..." he rambled, scratching the back of his head. He was very fond of her, but he had to curse her calculative nature in this situation.

"You're so easy to read, Sanji-kun," Nami pointed out, chuckling knowingly with her hands on her hips. She picked up the tray with both hands, eying the onigiri with a distasteful grimace. "Furthermore, you know I'm not a big fan of this stuff."

"Ah, yeah..." he didn't really know what else to say to preserve his dignity here.

"Zoro's just down there below sleeping, isn't he?" She stepped forward with the tray.

"Yeah..." Sanji said nervously. Shit. She'd figured him out.

The redhead gave him a pleasant smile, handing him the tray. "Give these to him then, would you Sanji-kun?"

In a daze from her manipulative nature, he responded, "Of course, Nami-san." He took in her lovely expression and then began to turn, but that clutch on his male pride unrelentingly squeezed. He decided to clarify a little. "But, ah, it's not what you think, Nami-san, I was just..."

"_Man_, it's not that big of a deal," she said, staring at him like he was insane. "You two fight so much. It's nice to see one of you doing something nice once in a while, you know? And after this morning, somebody had to mend things."

"Ah, yes, but... it's not really that. It's just my job, on this ship, to keep people fed, and so I had to do something... or something." If that wasn't the most pathetic explanation of the century, he didn't know what qualified.

"Just give him the damn rice balls, Sanji-kun."

Sanji swallowed and nodded obediently, brushing past the trees and swiftly going down the stairs. He stood still as he glared down at the idiot who'd just unknowingly been the cause of his embarrassment in front of Nami-san. Damn moron. He placed the tray down a good distance away from Zoro on the wall, in case the lazy marimo fell over and crushed them. Then he walked over to the very back of the ship, leaning over the railing and breathing in the chemicals of his cigarette.

The sun was bright today and made the water shimmer endlessly. He watched the natural waves as well as the ones Merry produced. Sighing, he placed a hand over his left pocket, where his pocket-watch was attached to the chain on his belt. He took it out and gazed at it, his thumb gliding over an opening at the bottom, but he then became conscious of Zoro behind him and pocketed it. The cook promptly turned around, not giving Zoro another glance before he disappeared from sight and headed for his fishing crewmembers.

After the cook's footsteps had retreated, Zoro opened his eyes and rolled his head in the direction of the tray of onigiri that had been left for him. Then he looked straight ahead where the blond had stared, yet again, at the ocean's blue. He almost smirked somehow, but held back the response. Instead he subtly shook his head. That damn cook.

Stomach rumbling and the inside of his mouth salivating, Zoro paid quick attention to the onigiri at his side and bent over, sliding it towards him. This time, he definitely wanted to eat.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Preparing dinner that day had been a little torturous, simply because he was so famished at that point that his taste-testing had become much more frequent and tempting than usual. But it was worth it in the end when the crew all sat down, happy smiles on most of their faces while they gorged. He, as usual, remained in his role of cooking and serving—though the latter was mostly exclusive to the girls—and while the delicious smells and the sight of them all eating was a little bit of bittersweet agony, he held out in the end. He'd survived much, much worse than this anyway. Plus Zoro had come for dinner and he never thought he'd say it, but it'd been a huge relief for him.

By the end of it he'd simply got down to cleaning without thinking much of his own stomach. In fact, he'd almost forgotten his need to eat until later that night when he sat down at the table with his recipe notebook to plan out the meals for tomorrow. He made himself something quick and easy—a simple stir-fry with vegetables that were bound to go bad soon anyway and leftover rice from the onigiri—and sat down again to eat and mentally plan with the help of his collected recipes. It wasn't the best meal, especially since this kind of sticky rice was awkward in a stir-fry, but so long as it filled him he was content.

Suddenly a thought came to him. It wasn't his watch tonight, was it? No... Zoro had been last and so Usopp was next in circulation for the first half the night. The second half would be Nami-san's watch, but he might just convince her to let him do it instead since he hated the idea of her losing sleep over such a thing. Even though she tended to refuse—saying that she actually liked the peace and quiet—he always needed to offer, anyway. Tonight he was in fact grateful for this, since he was incredibly tired from the stressful day and needed to sleep through the night.

His palm supported his chin above the table as his mind fogged a little, and he hated to admit that in that moment the door's spontaneous opening to his right startled him quite a bit. To his discontent the one responsible for it had also been the source of his stressful day.

"Booze," was all Zoro said with a bored expression before wandering over to the wine rack.

Sanji didn't respond; barely bothered to waste his energy on it and went back to eating and reading. But when he was interrupted by the screech of a chair and the table's subsequent shutter, he shot his eyes to his left where he found the marimo leaning back on the chair at the table's end, taking a casual swig. Oh, great.

He sighed. "You know, you could at least be a little dignified and use a glass."

"Why do that when I'm drinking the whole thing anyway," Zoro said, gulping another large amount and subsequently breathing out loudly in satisfaction.

Sanji's visible eye narrowed at the sight. "You're so annoying. Here I am trying to have a moment of peace, eating my dinner..."

Zoro stared down Sanji's plate, curious. "It's like nine at night. Do you always eat dinner so late?"

"If _some _people helped out a little more, I wouldn't have to clean it all up by myself, and thus," he gestured towards the plate. "A nine o'clock dinner."

"Took you two hours to clean?" Zoro asked, surprised.

Okay, since when did the marimo take an interest in his day? "Today, yes. Normally it only takes me an hour. But..." Well, he didn't really want to use his fatigue as an excuse, so: "I got interrupted by Chopper needing me for something."

The green haired man grunted in response. Then he placed the bottle of sake down, hard, shrugging as he did it and stated, "You could just eat with us."

His words and that softer-than-normal tone prompted Sanji to give Zoro a perplexed expression. He soon snapped out of it and waved it off. "Someone's got to keep up with Luffy's bottomless stomach."

Zoro gave a short, amused laugh at that, nodding before taking another swig of his sake. When silence followed—other than the lonely clanking of a fork on plate as the cook continued to eat—he decided it was about time to leave, not wanting things to get more awkward than they already were. He didn't know why he'd felt the need to sit down with the cook to begin with. Normally he just took his booze and high-tailed it out of there before the pissy blond threw some random insults to get him riled.

He sat up and walked towards the door, not looking behind him but feeling the cook's eyes on his back as he exited and shut the door. He stood outside the galley, not really knowing what else to do but sleep. Though he would have to finish his sake first, which was complementary as the shit got him sleeping like it was warm milk at the end of a day. He relaxed by the ship's side, his back on the railing as he gulped down the sake. Minutes later he saw in the corner of his eye the light to the gallery flickering out, and Sanji emerged with his notebook in hand. The ship was dark with the absence of the sun, and while they both vaguely knew the other was there, no exchange was made.

Zoro watched his dark figure pass him by and then fade into the middle of the ship, where he slowly leaned down to the floor latch but then stopped, straightening up and seeming to look up at the crow's nest.

"Hey, Usopp!" the cook called. "Need anything up there? Tea, coffee, hot chocolate? ...Food?"

"Ah, Sanji!" Usopp shouted back down, competing with the loud splashing waves under the crescent moon's guidance. He appeared to be waving. "No food, I'm still stuffed from dinner! But maybe some hot chocolate would be nice?"

"Okay, just a minute," Sanji agreed. "I'll be right back!"

"Thanks Sanji!"

The swordsman watched the cook completely backtrack towards the galley, and even in the dark he could tell that his gait was off, ever so slightly with that slouch and lazy pace. He came to the realization that the idiot was tired as he brought the bottle's neck to his lips. The light in the galley flickered back on, and the cook was undoubtedly inside preparing his final item of the day. It somehow made him smirk; he didn't want to be appreciative or anything, but that damn cook really acted like a mother sometimes. For once, it honestly wasn't a thought intended to wound—nothing like a stab at Sanji's masculinity or anything. Zoro simply recognized that the cook took good care of them all—perhaps without even knowing—despite showing it differently at the individual level. It was... admirable.

Zoro finished off his sake as the ship rocked and swayed gently with the ocean, cradling the Going Merry in its transforming arms, back and forth, like a mother lulling her young into a mesmerizing slumber.

— ~ ≈ ~ —


	2. Stepping the Shoreline

**AN:** Long chapter is long. It looks like 8k just isn't enough for me anymore.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Seascape

Chapter 2: _Stepping the Shoreline_

— ~ ≈ ~ —

He'd been her world.

He didn't remember much of his mother, but what there was left—swimming in the depths of his memories—he did cherish. Any caress, laugh, hug, kiss; any spoonful of care, and the way her highlights had shimmered in the sun like golden rays drifting from the heavens down to earthen soil; he held onto all of it. Couldn't bear to go on without it. Even the desperate image of her sobbing countenance, departing with him under the glow of that wintry moonlight. They'd been bloodied, her hands, shaking from the cold, the trauma, and yet still cradling his face with all of that care—that motherly care—and telling him with dulling eyes of a colour he struggled to remember that everything would be okay. That she was leaving him but he would survive and that made his mother eternally happy. That satisfied smile having fulfilled a mother's duty. Handing him off to strangers, strangers who would take him far away from her, the only thing left in his world. Strangers on a boat who wouldn't show him what it meant to be loved like that, like the love of a mother, ever again.

He'd become nobody's world anymore.

He'd become nothing but an insignificant boy travelling with the numbers, escaping a home which hadn't wanted them. A home that hadn't been safe. A home which hadn't been a home. And he'd been left to pick up what remained, to search, to keep searching for that home he so desperately desired. After a while, the sea was all that it could be. His home. He'd found a world to believe in—a dream—but he was nobody's world. Just a boy tucked away in the galley, washing dishes for all he was worth and dreaming of an ocean like a love-struck fool.

When she'd arrived on the Orbit with those fluid, white-gold waves; eyes as wide and as vastly blue as the ocean and freckles dotting her cheeks over nose like flecks of land—like islands—he'd clutched onto her for as long as he could. For in that moment of time, briefly, he'd become a boy in the world of another. He'd belonged and been shown everything he had ever wanted—a mother's love—engrossed in a world of each other's. Until...

Water scattered in the sink's basin, leaving without a trace but succeeding in the task of rinsing off the carrots for dinner. Sanji came back to what he was doing in the present moment. He began the lunch preparations earlier today since he'd finished the laundry at a decent hour. He shook out the dripping carrots in the sink and set them on the cutting board, making short work of dicing them up and placing them into the large pot of water.

Frowning as he rinsed off more vegetables, he wondered what had provoked those memories to resurface. But when he did chores like these on his own, it was only natural that it gave him time to think about things like that. Yet the more he continued along that particular strain of memories, the more he tended to question his own sanity.

Nami-san had said an hour ago that they were headed for an island soon, and would probably reach it by lunchtime. It was why he was starting on lunch so early, planning to serve it around noon so that the crew had full stomachs for whatever adventure was to come on the approaching island.

Well, whatever the situation, he knew that he'd have to spend energy doing his part to collect food, and so today he maybe he'd take the marimo's advice from the other night and actually join in on eating with the crew. Even if that meant taking intermittent sips of the soup-to-come while maintaining the comfort level of his crew—but of course mainly the ladies'.

Rinsing the potatoes next, he twisted the faucet and watched the clear water flush down from the spout, plummeting before dissipating in the drain and out of his sight, completely gone; vanished.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

When the new island came into their view, it looked as though it were made up of two rivalling mountains rolling away from the other. And after the subsequent phase of anticipation, Merry finally hugged its shoreline close enough for Zoro and Usopp to jump down into the water and begin anchoring her to the trunks of trees. Merry floated happily, her belly sunken into deep enough waters to keep her afloat and unbound by the earth. Luffy stretched an arm out, catching a tree branch and catapulting himself towards the shore. Sanji meanwhile helped the girls down the rope ladder, giving a distasteful expression as he watched the three of them run off into the wilderness on their own.

"Those shitheads..." he grumbled. "No concern for the rest of us."

The island was an autumn one; rattling leaves the hues of a sunset and the perfect temperature enough evidence to prove it. The weather allowed for the girls to dress elegantly, but still show enough skin to firmly distract him. And so he welcomed being dumped by the guys there with open arms; it only gave him quality time with his princesses.

After waving goodbye to Chopper, who was left behind to guard the ship, the one-man two-woman trio plodded through the shallow waters and forward to the shoreline, their pant legs rolled and their shoes dangling from curling fingers. Immediately Sanji spotted trees that looked worthwhile. Autumn fruits of many types would be plentiful. Animals too—their stock was getting low on meat, something Luffy would _not_ let him live down. Sanji casually threw his harvest basket in the air and caught it again. Nami had her mapping equipment ready, and Robin had nothing, her mind already her greatest tool.

"I need to get to a high point to begin plotting out this map," Nami explained. "A spot on one of those mountains would be perfect..."

"Of course, Nami-san! I'll lead you there in a flash!" Sanji said, smiling ridiculously while plucking apples, some already ground-found, and screening them over at an impossibly talented speed. His basket already began to fill.

As Sanji and Nami continued through the forest, Robin stood back briefly to concentrate on what she could see of the low-rising mountains. There was something familiar about the way they were shaped. "A caldera?" she whispered. Yes... it appeared to be that. But that wasn't what unsettled her. What was it…?

"Robin?" Nami's voice shook her from her ruminations. Nami was staring back at her with concern, and Sanji looked serious as well. "Is something wrong?" the navigator assured.

"No, everything is fine, Navigator-san," Robin responded with a small smile. "It's just I noticed that those two mountains are actually two visible sides of a collapsed volcano. The mountains should connect in a circle. I thought you might like to know for geographic purposes if we don't end up reaching the top to see it."

The redhead looked surprised, and then turned back to their view of the two mountains. "Oh, a caldera! I can't believe I didn't notice it before. Thanks, Robin. We just have to see it from the top, now!"

Robin nodded and extended one foot over the other, vaguely listening to Sanji's promises to Nami that he would guide her up to the top unharmed, and not let her fall into the caldera's clutches. But her smile faded back into deliberation when that feeling returned; that feeling that told her she was not remembering something vital. Where was her extensive knowledge failing her?

— ~ ≈ ~ —

"Ya_hoooo_!" Luffy hollered as he swung from branch to branch like a primate. When he landed on his feet—with that familiar sound of those flip-flops snapping to his soles—he had to wait before his companions panted as they'd finally caught up with their spontaneous captain. "This is so much fun! Zoro, Usopp, we're heading for the top of that mountain!" he instructed, pointing ahead towards the mountains.

"You idiot!" Zoro scolded, straightening up. "How do you expect us to keep up with you, Luffy? Just walk with us!"

The black haired boy paused to stare at Zoro blankly, humming in consideration. "But that's boring."

The swordsman refrained with great willpower from smacking his captain in the head. "You're going to get lost, idiot! Just follow me," he ordered, walking ahead of the two.

"Hey, Zoro," Usopp spoke out. "That's a terrible idea! You're going to get us _all_ lost!" Zoro whipped around with a grumble, giving Usopp a stare so cold it channelled through to the sniper's bones. He put his hands in front of him, waving them defensively. "D-don't get mad… but really, I mean remember when you—" Another glare that spelled out death with the swordman's teeth, and Usopp straightened up as if he'd been electrically shocked. His mouth remained shut from there on out.

Luckily Luffy had no fears, laughing as he galumphed about, pressing that famous straw hat to his head. And he said with a massive smile: "Zoro _does_ have a bad sense of direction, doesn't he?" His happy laughter continued even as Zoro thumped him on the head repeatedly.

Usopp watched their struggle with a blank face. "Honestly, why didn't I just stay back with Chopper…" he mumbled to himself, then brightened and stood stiffly with his finger pointing towards the sky. "But of course, the brave Captain Usopp must explore this new island for himself!"

There was a rustle to his right. He shrieked and zoomed over to Zoro and Luffy all too quickly. Currently the swordsman was throttling their hysterical captain on the ground but stopped when Usopp pressed against him. He groaned as he said lowly, "What is it, Usopp?"

"I-I-I heard something, over there! A rustle, no, a crunch? No..."

"What does it matter what you call it! You heard something, didn't you?" Zoro rationalized, getting off of Luffy to concentrate on their surroundings. His hand hovered comfortably over the hilts of his swords. "You sure it wasn't some animal?"

"I don't know…"

Zoro's eyes narrowed when the feeling came to him. But he also gave a deadly smirk as he shifted into a lower, more menacing stance. "No… definitely not an animal."

"Hey guys…" Usopp said, trembling as he stared into the bush where he'd heard the noise. "This island… have you noticed? It's eerie. There's nobody here."

"Trust me Usopp," the swordsman assured with a suspicious glare. "Somebody's here."

Usopp pressed his hands to both sides of his head—utterly disturbed—squealing ridiculously: "_Ahhh_…! Zoro-kun, don't say ominous things like _that! _This island is scary, it's _totally_ bad news!"

Luffy casually arose from the ground, a hand on his hat. "Trouble, Zoro?"

"Nah…" the first mate responded with a confident smirk, his thumb pushing up against Yubashiri's guard. "Nothing I won't handle."

The silence in the air was thick as the trio patiently waited for their enemy to strike from the leaves. Yet nothing happened. Zoro was _sure_ he sensed someone there, maybe two, hiding behind a shroud of nature.

Suddenly, something popped up over the bush. Zoro's reaction was immediate—he sliced whatever it was that had been thrown in two. It combusted into a cloud of gas, and he coughed as he inhaled it, backing up with an arm covering over his mouth. "Shit…!" A smoke grenade!

And another one rolled over to their feet, hissing as it spewed out more of the yellowish gas. Luffy and Usopp began to cough as well, and the captain stepped forward intrepidly. "Shit! Come out of there already, you…!" he wound up his fist behind him and then shot it forward like an elastic cannon into the bush, intending on ploughing whoever it was hiding there. But his fist met no flesh. Their attacker had already switched positions.

From the bushes, there was a cry of: "He's a user!"

Zoro mentally cursed on his hands and knees. How could he have started off this clash so clumsily? And his worries had been confirmed when his body began to feel heavy, like it had swiftly turned into lead, and his vision fogged over. _Fuck_—an anaesthetic gas. He glanced to his side, already witnessing Usopp on the ground struggling to stay awake. Luffy too, after his spurt of rage, was now hacking on his knees.

His arms failed to hold him up anymore, succumbing to the betrayal of his own body which felt as though steel flowed right through his veins, and he collapsed. His waning vision seized the final image of two men in white outfits emerging from the bushes before his grip on that last inch of willpower slipped and his eyes unwillingly fluttered closed, shutting reality out with it.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Squinting above him slightly as he searched for more fruits, his gaze locked with what appeared to be an owl's large, intense golden eyes that nearly made him stumble. The owl was like a statue, completely unaffected by his presence and maintained that hard, concentrated stare. The blond didn't give up either, damn bird, and he glared back at it just as frighteningly. His expression turned serious—cigarette inert between his tightly sealed lips—when he noticed the pupils take over the iris' yellow to become almost entirely black, and back again. Like it was trying to focus. There was a faint whirring sound that was soon snuffed out by Robin and Nami's footsteps.

When those steps became louder behind him, the owl shifted its head mechanically quick in their direction and gave them a stare-down as well. The blond was bemused as a weird buzzing sound came from the action. The two girls must have noticed his intensity, because Nami's concern came to light.

"What is it, Sanji-kun?"

His eyes didn't leave those large amber ones, even though he wasn't the focus of the bird's attention anymore. Then he took the cigarette out of his mouth after taking a drag and exhaled slowly. "No, it's nothing Nami-san." Sanji repositioned the heavy basket at his side and waited for the girls to reach him.

Nami gave a thoughtful hum at the cook's response. "Well, anyway, it looks like we're getting close to the base of the mountain."

"Indeed," Robin agreed. "Thankfully the caldera's height is a manageable hike."

The cook gazed at the base of the mountain, and they were indeed getting close. It was then that he noticed a light section of rock climbing and coiling up the side of the caldera. Cigarette in his mouth, he gave a short hum before stating, "Looks like there's a path up there for us to take."

"A keen observation, Cook-san," Robin commended, and the cook's serious disposition crumbled as he turned around with reddened cheeks and a wide, modest smile. She tuned out the sugary words that followed and replaced them with her own. "This confirms that this island must have had civilization at one point, if not now."

Nami nodded. "I was wondering if anyone lived here. So far we've only encountered a few small critters, here and there…"

"Yes," Robin concurred. "I have noticed the same. It's possible the eruption that caused this volcano to collapse wiped out much of what subsisted here, but all of the nature around us suggests otherwise."

"Maybe the ecosystem here is still rebuilding itself…" Nami pondered aloud.

"It's possible. But I don't believe the eruption was recent enough. There are many adult trees and everything else seems to be in place on this island, from an ecological perspective. It doesn't match that there are scarcely any animals in the area," Robin analyzed, her thin fingers encircling her chin. "Unless we simply, by coincidence, haven't seen any."

Sanji put a hand to his cheek in adoration. "Robin-chan's intelligence is so lovely, such a superlative analysis…"

"Anyway," Nami carried on, "Let's get going. I want to get started on my cartography soon."

"Yes, Nami-san!" Sanji delightfully obliged as the girls walked in front of him. He gave the owl perched on the tree branch another glance and glared as he connected with its golden eyes which were, again, still giving him a cold stare-down. He left his eyes to linger on it while he stepped after the girls, taking the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling coolly. "Damn creepy bird." He swung the basket full of fruit to his back, strapping it on like a backpack, and chased after his beloved beauties.

Minutes later he had no room left in the basket, and discontinued collecting food. He walked in front of the girls, making sure to keep them feeling safe with him protecting them. They now found themselves in an opening—rather than the forested path they'd been trekking before—at the base of the caldera. There was a pathway zigzagging up its slope and they wasted no time, beginning their hike. As they made it up halfway, the air around them became tinted with a misty, wet fog, but it wasn't enough to overwhelm their vision, though they could feel it sticking to their skin.

However as Sanji excitedly explained his plans to the girls to make apple pie once back at the ship, the archaeologist's legs wobbled. She felt faintly weak, and had been gradually undergoing this sensation as they moved further up the path. It felt like being exhausted by the sea, but how? Gazing up, she noticed a plume of something white coming out of the caldera's gap… could that be the cause? Maybe it was natural? She'd spotted a small river far beyond the trees from before, leading towards the former volcano. If that river connected to the sea, it was possible that buried inside the caldera was a reservoir of sea water. Perhaps, if geysers were on the surface of its basin—which was highly probable—it could be releasing plumes of seawater evaporation. She could feel the hot mist clinging to her skin as they kept ascending further. And these observations were triggering that sense of familiarity. She felt like she'd read or heard about a place like this before. But it must have been a subtle memory, because she simply couldn't tug the information out.

"Robin-chan?" Sanji's voice broke through her thoughts with tenderness. "Are you alright?"

She gave a weak smile to the both of them as Nami also turned to her with concerned, soft brown eyes. "It's alright," she began. She explained to them her speculations about the caldera and why it was weakening her. Sanji immediately offered to carry her if she needed it, but she declined. At this stage, it wasn't so overwhelming that she couldn't walk. However, she was aware that the closer to the evaporation she got, the more drained she would feel.

It took them a decent hour to reach the top, and Sanji made sure to help Robin on her way up. Eventually she did have to lean on his shoulder for support, but she remained adamant to continue walking on her feet. Now they stood with a strong wind in their hair, standing over the expanse of a massive chasm. Inside its basin, as predicted by Robin, there were many geysers spurting out white clouds in random arrangements. Conversely, they all spotted something particularly _structured _amidst the disorganization of the caldera.

Robin's mouth parted in shock as she realized what this island was.

In the caldera's bowl were built structures embedded within the rock and running all along the inside slope. There were cube-shaped buildings jutting out in some areas, while the embedded buildings were like horizontal strips across the rock. The walls were silver and metallic, probably to protect the edifices from becoming dilapidated from the heat of the geysers. Windows ran long the metal panels in horizontal slits, like a line of dashes. There were various metal balconies and staircases connecting to all of the levels, and they could see white figures scurrying along them. All in all, it looked like an institution. And institution built within the crust of a former volcano.

And this made her remember.

"What the hell…?" Sanji mumbled. "What is this place? People are living here?"

Nami suggested, "They might be researchers."

Robin spoke up with fatigue and worry. "We need to leave."

"What's wrong? We're in danger?" the red haired navigator questioned, slightly frantic.

"What is it, Robin-chan?"

"This is a secret marine research facility. Ground Zero. It's top secret, and completely off limits to any travellers…" she explained wearily, and then a thought came to her. "However, why we didn't see any warning signs for trespassers, I don't know…"

"This island is owned by the marines!" Sanji shouted in disbelief.

"Yes," the archaeologist assured. "I don't know many details… information on Ground Zero is kept strictly classified. I hardly even remember where I had learned about this place. I do remember that this caldera is a major source of seastone, they must extract it here and invent with it. But this facility explains why we barely saw any animals. They must use them for experiments of another kind."

Sanji frowned and bit on the tip of his cigarette. That owl he'd seen… there had definitely been something strange about it. It had moved mechanically, and the way its eyes focussed in like that. With those faint buzzing, motorized sounds… oh, shit.

"Whatever the case, these guys had a camera on us back there. They know we're here," the cook disclosed. "We shouldn't get involved."

Nami pressed her fingertips to her forehead with a sigh. "Those morons are wandering around somewhere, too…" She adjusted the cartography equipment underneath her arm and concluded, "We definitely should leave, then. Robin, how are you feeling?"

The dark haired woman smiled sweetly. "I'm fine, Navigator-san. Just weary. Once we get down to the bottom I should recover."

"Okay," Nami said, and stepped back onto the path from the dark crust of the caldera. "Let's get going, then. Those idiots better be at the ship when we get back…"

Sanji stared at her mapping equipment as she retreated ahead. "Ah, but, Nami-san… what about your map?"

She turned back to him with a resigned expression. "Can't be helped. I'll have to draw out something rough later on the ship from memory. I'll be able to write a warning on it, at least, for future travellers."

"Ahh, Nami-san," Sanji said, completely smitten. "Your selflessness is so endearing!"

"Yeah, yeah, Sanji-kun. Let's get down already. We'll head to the ship for now."

"Yes, Nami-swan!"

The blond gestured to Robin that he was going to put her arm back on his shoulder. She allowed him to help her down the pathway. Her strength slowly returned to her as they reached ground level again some time later. But when they backtracked into the forested path again, there was a rustle in the leaves. Sanji was immediately on guard, and Robin, with her powers renewed, crossed her arms and sprouted many eyes on the various tree trunks around them. There were men in full white jumpsuits crouching behind the bushes and a couple of them were preparing to throw what looked to be…

She opened her eyes. "Both of you, hold your breath!"

They stared at her, puzzled, until a circular device came shooting out of the forest. Nami and Sanji understood, then, what Robin had been warning them about. They both stopped breathing as the spherical device shot out a yellow gas from many orifices. Sanji ran up to it quickly and booted the device over the canopy of the forest, and it disappeared from sight.

The gas that remained began to dissipate, but that's when another one rolled by Nami's feet. She noticed it right away. "Sanji-kun!" she shouted, getting his attention and tapping it towards him with her heel. He wasted no time and kicked it over the forest again, watching with a snarl as it spewed gas while it flew.

_Shit!_ he thought, cupping a hand over his mouth and nose. _We can't keep this up forever! Who the fuck do these bastards think they are!_

Suddenly, to his far left there was a hissing sound and a faint, aggravated shout, and then that familiar yellow gas appeared somewhere far, between the tree trunks. Puzzled, he glanced at Robin who had her arms crossed in concentration, with the smallest hint of a grin on her elegant features.

"Nice one, Robin-chan!" he encouraged. Their beautiful archaeologist would be their greatest asset in this situation. Her powers were well-matched for this kind of work. Of course he couldn't expect her to stop every shitty gas-ball from being thrown at them, but he and Nami-san kept a close eye out for them. They caught breaks in between where the gas disappeared enough for them to fill their lungs, and Sanji for the most part made sure to kick them away before that gas so much as obtained the chance to contaminate the smell of their clothes. After some minutes, there were some aggravated grunts and finally no more of the spheres appeared at their feet.

Robin opened her eyes slightly. "They're all caught," she said calmly and there were skittering footsteps as the six culprits—hugged in capture from enwrapping arms and being transported by many scurrying feet attached to their backs—unwillingly emerged at last from their hiding spots.

Nami sighed in relief. "Nice work, Robin! You really saved us."

Sanji leaned over one of them smugly and prodded at the man's side with his shoe. "Weird get up. Going to space anytime soon, cadet?" The man below him was probably snarling behind Robin's bloomed hand on his mouth.

To make matters easier, Robin performed her clutch on half of the captures. The men affected all groaned in agony before slumping to unconsciousness. The remaining three would be enough to interrogate.

Nami stepped forward with a devious smile, twirling a drawing compass in her hand before leaning down to one of the weird, goggled men and pointing the tool under his chin sharp-side up. "You didn't happen to see an idiot rubber-boy with a straw hat around, did you?"

— ~ ≈ ~ —

The repetitive rattling of a chain echoed in the blank white, soundless room that he and Usopp had woken up in. The floor was a white tile to go with the walls, and the only thing that wasn't this shade was the metal handle of the door. Zoro had his arms above him, his hands trapped in thick metal shackles and his crewmate facing the same dilemma. Well, it wasn't really a problem for him, actually. The swordsman pulled gently at the chains, repeatedly feeling out its firm attachment to the wall. He trained for these kinds of situations daily. This thing would not contain him, but he continued to tug at it and rattle the chains to find the right spot, which apparently was annoying their sniper.

"Hey, stop it already," Usopp whined. "It's useless—"

There was a loud crackle as he yanked at the chains harshly, and then on his second attempt, he drew the attachment out like a slice of pie. He knowingly slid over as the metal part slammed to the ground beside him.

Usopp gaped. "Ah—way to go, Zoro! I knew you could do it, all along!"

Zoro gave him a dubious glare as he stood. "I just heard 'it's useless' come out of your mouth not ten seconds ago."

The long-nosed sniper blushed, dismissively waving his hands above him in the shackles. "You must've heard things, Zoro-kun… ah, anyway, free me and let's get out of here!" he said, changing the subject.

Zoro didn't speak and obliged, his wrists still shackled together but his hands free. He stepped over, dragging the connected metal part on the chain with him, and grasped at Usopp's chains. With a solid heave, and then another, the attachment came loose and slid right out. It fell and of course landed on Usopp's foot, who blanched at the pain and blew frantically on his abused appendage.

"We need to find Luffy," the green haired man stated with trepidation. He glared at the solid white door locking them in. The chains that were still attached to him jingled as he stepped closer to it, analyzing the handle. He looked down at the heavy, solid metal attachment that he was dragging with him, and then back to the door's handle. He smirked and grabbed the chain attached to his shackles, pulling at them and swung the metal part around like a toy before taking proper aim.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

"Hey ossan, are you a ba-san? What's with your hair? Baba-ossan!" Luffy babbled, staring up at a frail, hunched over old man who wore teal-tinted goggles, a white lab coat with a blue marine emblem stitched into the breast pocket, and—the strangest feature of all—purple curlers in his aged, white hair. Like an old woman. The straw hat captain was both amused and baffled at the odd characteristic.

The severely aged man simply tapped his fingers at a keyboard device on his chest. After the silent pause while he typed, a dull, robotic voice sounded with irregular pauses: "_Shut up… boy. You are in -no pos-it-ion to crit—_"

"_Whoaaa!"_ Luffy exclaimed, his eyes glowing despite his severe fatigue due to the seastone restraints at his arms, wrists, feet, neck and torso. "Are you a robot, baba-ossan!"

"—_i-cize me_." The elderly man began typing up something else with a wrinkled frown.

But Luffy continued on while he typed. "But if you're a robot, why do you wear those things in your hair? You're a baba-ossan robot! So _cool!_ Do the curlers do something cool? Like beams—?"

"_Stop talk-ing -you rid-icu-lous… child. We will -begin test-ing… our… con-cock."_

There were two younger adult scientists in the room, one male and one female. They both gaped at the old man incredulously. The geezer scientist frantically moved his fingers along his speaking device again, blushing.

Luffy laughed as jovially as he could at him, given his weakened state. "You're a perverted baba-ossan robot!"

"_I meant of -course… con-coc… tion."_

Luffy was under an intense white light, laying out flat on an experimentation table. The old man's shaky hands extracted a clear liquid from a test tube, and the dark haired boy watched with mild interest as the watery substance was sapped from the tube and transported into a syringe.

"Hey," Luffy said, the tone of his voice switching to exhaustion, now. The cold seastone binds touching his skin were making him melt into the table, unable to move, nearly paralyzed. "If you do something mean like that…" he smiled brightly and confidently, still able to move his facial muscles despite his dearth of energy. "…my nakama won't be very happy."

The elderly scientist handed over the syringe to his male apprentice. Then he began typing something again.

In the meantime, the younger male positioned the needle to Luffy's upper left arm. "Unfortunately for you, pirate, your friends have been captured."

And then the robotic voice echoed: "_Too bad -for you… pir-ate… your friends -are alre-ady… captured."_ Luffy and even the aiding scientists gazed back at the old man with amusement at the delayed, echoing retort. The old man's bushy eyebrows furrowed, and again he scowled further with reddening cheeks, silently embarrassed. He began typing again. "_Just… in-ject the con-coct… ion… alre-ady."_

The two younger scientists nodded with restrained grins, and the male one prodded the needle's tip at Luffy's skin. "Let's see what happens to a Devil Fruit user with this improved version…" he spoke to his female associate, who stood on the opposite side with the old scientist. The old man tapped his fingers over his speech device.

Luffy could do nothing as the needle's sharp tip sank into his skin and he felt a numbing coolness bleed over the affected area of his arm. Suddenly the fatigue he felt there became nothing; no feeling at all, and he tried to lift his other arm—to _do_ something—but he was thoroughly bound and weakened by the same source.

Then the robotic voice droned, "_This sea-stone extract-ion… is less… pot-ent… but it st-ill should theo-retic-ally immo-bil-ize -him… through dir-ect in-ject-ion to -his… blood-stream."_

The young male slid the syringe out of Luffy's arm, who was currently shaking until that numbing sensation spread all over his body, and then he had no twitches anymore. He couldn't move at all, not a muscle.

"You're a lucky pirate," the woman spoke down to him. "The previous, more potent trials all ended with respiratory and heart failure—they lost all functioning in their nerves—but this watered-down version should just keep you feeling the immobilizing effects for days or weeks."

Inside Luffy was infuriated by what the woman had said. They'd performed this dirty tactic on other people! And killed them with it? His mouth was open a crack and he tried to speak, but all that came out were small sounds, repetitive and incomprehensive utters that soon became silent. He barely felt his heart beating, hardly felt the breath rushing in and out of his lungs, but as the experimenters checked his vitals, they confirmed that he was still doing these things on his own. He just could barely, scarcely feel it. Their confirmations were what he depended on to know that he was still autonomously performing the most basic bodily functions.

And when those double doors burst open with an intense fury, he would've smiled if he could. He could still feel that, they couldn't take it away from him. That intense bond with his nakama.

Zoro exploded into the room with mad wrath, glancing around and readying his newly retrieved swords. He didn't expect to see Luffy on an experimenting table, completely unmoving and subject to the prodding hands of decadent scientists. Usopp showed up panting at his back, just as Zoro shouted, "Luffy!"

He dashed forward, and before the scientists could run—knowing they stood no chance against Roronoa Zoro—he held that sharp metal underneath two throats, and the remaining old man in the room shook as he was petrified by this sudden turn of events. Zoro stared at him coldly and pressed the blades further against his captives' throats. They breathed heavily in shock. "_Release him_," was his dangerous demand.

The old man nodded shakily and got to work on a number pad on the side of the table that Luffy lay unmoving upon. The keys beeped with every press and when he entered it, the seastone binds mechanically split down the middle and opened up like a blooming flower. Zoro kicked the man he held captive to the side, sheathing that sword while still threatening the woman with the other. He put Luffy over his shoulder, and only then did he slowly release Kitetsu's icy kiss from that woman's throat.

"Ah—Zoro! We've got company!" Usopp yelled to him, getting his slingshot ready. "More marines!"

Zoro ran over to Usopp, handing him Luffy's rubbery, motionless body without any words of warning. The sniper tipped over slightly at the unexpected hand-over, nearly dropping his slingshot before straightening up and backing away when Zoro clenched his teeth on the hilt of that white katana. The swordsman was practically emitting his own centre of gravity with that kind of intensity, and Usopp definitely did not want to be sucked into the ensuing effects of it.

"Sorry guys," Zoro spoke menacingly to the arriving stock of marine fighters through his clenched teeth on Wado. "You caught me at a bad time."

— ~ ≈ ~ —

After Sanji and the girls had forced one of their captives to spit out the location of the front entrance to the institution, they set off for it, leaving the man behind, unconscious. And finally they arrived at a set of metal, medium-sized doors buried at the back of a hallway created from drilled-out rock.

"So we just have to barge inside, find Luffy and the others, free them and escape?" Nami clarified, the growing worry evident in her resonating voice.

"Yes," Robin responded calmly, and then bluntly stated: "The likelihood that we'll succeed is very low."

Nami's expression sank and she hung her head. "When you put it like that, Robin…" she said in disbelief.

"Don't worry, Nami-san, Robin-chan! I'll protect the both of you with my passion!" Sanji declared, his hands overlapping over his heart. "And now, for this shitty door…" he said, smirking coolly on his cigarette as he placed his basket down. He made small, preparing bounces before shooting off of his feet and gunning for the door. He would show the ladies the furious power of his kicks with a burning passion…

Suddenly, the metal doors burst open, slamming the cook into the rock wall at his left and leaving him thoroughly embarrassed as he slid down to the ground. He rubbed his head before bouncing back to his feet in irritation. When he saw Zoro running out, that simple irritation and humiliation swiftly burst into fury and he exploded. "_Shitty _marimo! What the hell was that for! Watch where you open doors!"

"Huh," Zoro droned dully, his swords unsheathed. "How could I have known you'd be on the other side, moron?"

Sanji was about to retort when he saw Usopp emerge, carrying a very unhealthy-looking, dangling captain. Swiftly his anger turned into deep concern and he said, "Hey, Luffy…? What happened to him?" He turned to Usopp for clarification, who merely shook his head slightly, unable to answer the question. Then Sanji looked to Zoro.

The swordsman spoke unemotionally with his eyelids drawn down, looking totally unconcerned. "Don't know, he's been like that since we found him. Anyway, we need to leave now. There're some marines still chasing us."

"Oh," Sanji said dumbly, somehow stricken by the swordsman's scarily dull response toward something quite serious by the looks of their captain. He snapped out of it soon enough when everyone began to run. "Ah, right… Nami-san, Robin-chan, follow me! I'll keep you safe!" the blond chirruped, picking up his basket of collected fruits as he sprinted off with the rest of them.

Sanji and Zoro defeated any marines that decided to challenge them as they rushed across the island towards the ship. Somewhere amidst the hustle, a particularly bulky marine managed to trickle through Zoro and Sanji's defences as they fought off more men. They shouted a warning to Usopp who was forced to hand Luffy over to the closest person near him—Robin—and he grabbed his slingshot. He fired a Tabasco shot into the big guy's eyes, effectively blinding and distracting him until Sanji rushed to take over.

Robin—who had caught Luffy haphazardly in her arms—felt her body's strength fade away suddenly, and she stumbled on her feet before regaining her balance and slowing to a wobbly walk. What was this…? Why now? How could the sea be sapping her energy in this situation? They were far away from the caldera now—and thus leaving her unaffected by the geysers—so how could her body be failing her like this? She panted and called out to Usopp. "Longnose-kun!"

"Robin!" Usopp called, rushing over to her. "What's wrong…?"

She moved weakly, hunching over and barely holding onto their captain in her trembling arms. "Take him, my strength is…"

The sniper stared at her—puzzled that she was struggling so much to lift Luffy, who was an incredible light-weight—before nodding and relieving her of that apparent exertion. He put the captain over his shoulder and asked her if she was okay now.

Her strength came back to her swiftly and she could again feel the Devil raging in her veins after being stifled like that, fully ready to be of service to her again. "I'm fine, now. Thank you Longnose-kun."

Usopp smiled worriedly at her before boasting that it was no problem for the Great Captain Usopp. They then sprinted off just as Sanji appeared in their place, struggling with the bulky marine that Usopp had temporarily blinded moments before. He threw a kick his way, but even in the guy's semi-blinded state the kick was caught by his ankle and he was promptly lifted from the ground, dangling in the big man's grip.

"Agh, bastard!" he cursed, but upside-down he shot his free foot at that grip on his leg, effectively disrupting it and he then fell towards the ground. He transformed the drop into a handstand position and double-footedly ploughed the large marine in the stomach, springing to his feet as the marine stumbled backwards. He curiously watched while the marine suddenly straightened up like he'd be shocked, and Zoro sharply whizzed past him just as the big guy collapsed to his knees, holding his side and tilting over into unconsciousness.

Damn, the marimo'd taken down his man! But he left no time to complain, hurrying after Zoro and the rest. They were almost to the shore, now.

"Usopp!" Zoro shouted ahead. "Get Luffy to Chopper! We'll handle the ropes!"

The swordsman and the cook promptly peeled in opposite directions when they reached the shore to untie Merry's ropes from the trees anchoring her. Usopp, Nami, and Robin plodded the shallow waters towards the ship. When the water level went past Robin's knees, Nami helped the archaeologist, supporting her shoulder as they trudged through to the rope ladder of the ship. They climbed aboard—facing Chopper's frantic greeting of confusion—but jolted when they heard gunfire. They turned to watch as the remaining two men sprinted in the water, moving erratically to avoid the shots. But they too managed to make it to the side of Merry's belly, and once both of them began climbing up the rope ladder, Usopp—already at the stern—awakened Merry out of her rest.

The ship took some damage while they made a bit of a slow break away on the ship—there were various bullet holes that Usopp would have to begrudgingly patch up later—but they did succeed in escaping with their lives, and that was what mattered most.

Now they could worry about Luffy, who was immediately under Chopper's care. Everyone watched in grave silence while the little reindeer checked over their motionless, seemingly unconscious captain. He paused the check, and when everyone asked what was wrong, he curiously mentioned that he'd just felt a sudden wave of fatigue. Sanji told him not to push himself, and so he and Nami helped bring Luffy onto the couch in the boys' sleeping area.

As he opened the latch, Sanji's gaze lifted with a dour expression to Zoro while the man carelessly meandered off, gruffly sheathing his swords and disappearing towards the ship's stern.

What was with that damn attitude of his when their captain was suffering like this? He inhaled the smoke of his cigarette to relieve his tension, but it didn't take long for him to mutilate the filter with clenched teeth. If this was how that grass-head treated every crewmate in their time of need, then it made it easy for him to believe that he was just as cold as his reputation declared him to be.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

"Chopper, what's wrong?" Sanji asked as the small reindeer's eyes drooped and he slumped over Luffy's body.

"Ugh…" Chopper moaned. "I feel tired every time I touch him… what exactly happened to him?" Sanji gently lifted him upright on the chair in front of the couch where Luffy lay, completely still and unconscious.

Usopp spoke up. "We don't know. We found him being prodded at by marine scientists on the island… they must've done something to him…" he drifted coldly, his fingers clenching into a tight fist.

"How dirty…" the cook growled, puffing out a stream of smoke. This was unacceptable, for this to have happened to their boisterous, genial captain.

Robin was intrigued while their reindeer doctor regained his composure. The same thing had happened to her when Usopp handed him into her arms. "Doctor-san?" she called. His cute, round eyes stared up at her in accordance. "Does it feel like being weakened by the sea?"

Chopper stared at his hooves as he focused on the feeling still tingling under his fur. "Mm… yeah, it did feel like that… I wonder why…"

Hearing this, Robin put two and two together when she noticed a red spot on Luffy's arm—like he'd been pricked by a needle. The reason there hadn't been any warning signs for trespassers on the island must've been because the marines _wanted_ pirates to find their base… wanted to experiment on them, especially because many pirate crews contained Devil Fruit users. And they were eager to dish out the results of these experiments with seastone—the weapons and inventions—to marines on duty. Their captain must have been an unfortunate victim of this.

She then explained her point of view on the situation. "Longnose-kun handed me Captain-san for a brief moment in battle. I felt the same way when I touched him. We discovered that this island actually belongs to the marines to use for research and experimentations, and the caldera on the island is an excellent resource for seastone. I assume, based on this, and the sore spot on Captain-san's arm, that they injected a seastone-based solution into his bloodstream, and this caused the results in our captain now. Through his own body heat, he's likely emitting the effects of the solution, allowing users like me and Doctor-san to feel weakened when we touch him."

Sanji bit down on his cigarette and turned his sour gaze to Luffy, who had dark circles under his blanketed eyes and looked paler than his usual sun-kissed glow. "That must be it…" he said lowly, almost to himself. He closed his eyes. "Shit. That's far too dirty…"

"Poor Luffy…" Chopper said with a short whimper.

"Hey, Chopper," Usopp said, sounding grave and serious. "What can you do for him?"

Chopper frowned in thought before answering. "Well… when something is injected into the bloodstream, it should take some weeks for the body to clean it all out. It gets into tissues and fats, and lots of other things. It's basically completely inside of him, microscopically… how it didn't stop his breathing and heart, I'm not sure. Maybe they were careful to balance the potency with the desired effects. But either way, we'll have to keep a close eye on him and take care of him for the next couple days and weeks. He should get gradually stronger as his body naturally cleans it out of his system. There isn't much we can do but wait, but maybe I can speed up his metabolism a little…"

Sanji and Usopp nodded acceptingly. The cook then offered, "Should I make something for him? Will he be able to eat, at least?"

Chopper responded, "We'll have to straw-feed him for now. You can make him some kind of nutritious, liquid blend. Just make sure it'll go down smoothly…"

"Got it," Sanji said, rushing towards the mast-ladder in the men's room. "Take good care of him, Chopper," he insisted, before climbing up and releasing the latch. This situation was simply too much. He hated to even think about it. But the best he could do right now was his job, and so he headed for the galley provide Luffy with the proper nutrition to recover as quickly as possible. He knew their captain could do it faster than normal, that's just what the spunky kid had always done—defy the impossible.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Harsh, strained breathing cut into the silence of late-evening as a relentless swordsman lifted his weights and completed his incredibly copious amounts of sets. The waves were splattering against Merry's stern, and he used the tempo of each repetitive splash to lift one weight after the other. He was too focused in this crazed state of determination to notice that the sun was just barely clinging to the horizon, the orange and pink glow diminishing with it as a navy duvet swathed over them. The stars were just in their early phase of the coming night, twinkling faintly and suppressing their true numbers and brilliance until the peak of darkness.

But the green haired swordsman saw none of this. None of this beauty, and nothing of what it meant for him—that he'd been solidly training like this since their return to the ship five hours ago, no breaks in between. That the only sight he could see was Luffy's unconscious form with that unnerving pallidity, and the sickening way his body had felt like rubber in his grip; this time guiltless of his ability. He exhaled intensely as he forced himself to do more reps than even he could manage. But if he couldn't handle this, what kind of a man did that make him?

He'd failed so miserably to protect his captain, as first mate, he'd _completely_ fallen short. If this was going to become a pathetic trend for him—not keeping to that promise he'd made to Luffy after Mihawk's fatal strike—then he needed to train. Needed to hone his muscles, his spirit, needed to manipulate the damn microscopic cells in his _lungs_ to resist the invasion of anaesthetics. And he trained and trained… not bothering to check up on Luffy's condition. Not wanting to see his captain in that state, due to his own short comings. He was an absolute failure and he was desperate to rectify it. Needed to become stronger. And he lifted weight after weight until…

Until there were steps coming from behind him. He paid them no heed, just watched the way his muscles trembled in pathetic strain as he pumped one weight after the other. Why was he still so weak? How much of this did it take for him to get stronger? To become the strongest there could be?

"Are you going to go on like that all night?" the cook's smooth voice questioned from behind.

He provided no response. The cook was the last person he needed to see now.

Sanji lit up a cigarette as he walked further towards the aft, leaning on the railing with his back. He closed his eyes and enwrapped a slim finger around the cigarette in pause, before exhaling slowly through his mouth. Clenched to his body under his arm was a bottle of sake. He'd been fuming about the marimo's stoic behaviour while the rest of them tended to Luffy and the ship's damages. It'd only been through his time in the galley—cooking always did manage to tether his thoughts together—preparing meals for the rest of the crew while listening to the swordsman's uncouth grunts through the wall, that he'd come to realize something. Zoro wasn't being an asshole and he definitely wasn't trying to be uncaring towards Luffy's condition and the rest of the crew. He was instead being cold towards himself. And it was when Usopp had sat down in the galley with him—retelling their capture and what exactly had occurred on their side of things—that he came to understand what was really going through the marimo's head; the reason behind that self-reflected frigidity.

Guilt. Something he'd felt more than enough to be able to comprehend what was happening inside of his crewmate. The idiot marimo was feeling immensely guilty. And he was exerting this through exercise, training to do better. To always be the best. The marimo was a damn perfectionist if he ever did see one.

He shifted his stance as he grabbed the sake bottle at the neck and let it rest in his grip against his left knee. "Luffy's going to be okay, you know," he tried again, but the bull-headed swordsman kept at that linear path of his, not giving him so much as a peep. "So you can stop distracting yourself with your damn weights, shithead." Nothing was spared in response but those strained, heavy pants. Sanji's loose grip around the sake bottle's neck clenched. "Hey, marimo, are you hearing me? Did all that sweat leak into your ears?" The swordsman's breathing became harder, harsher, and it resonated in the cook's ears. He stepped forward with a mix of rage and concern. "Hey, idiot! _Listen_ to me!" Nothing. "Oi… _Zoro_!"

Both weights slammed into the deck as Zoro let them drop—completely enraged and in a tense state—and he finally responded to the nosey cook. "_What!"_

"Don't give me that!" Sanji yelled, stepping closer to antagonize the man. "You're practically oozing guilt just looking at you! Get over what happened today and grab a hold of yourself!"

"Fuck you, cook!" Zoro shouted back. "I don't need your bullshit!"

"Oh, you're _one_ irritating bastard!" the blond insulted, and he could feel his cheeks flushing with fiery blood. "Don't peg me as the fool, here! I'm not the one beating myself up over things that_ just_ _happen!" _He stalked menacingly towards the swordsman with his words until he was nearly screaming into the guy's mouth. "Be realistic! We're fucking _pirates_; these things are bound to happen! Are you going to wallow in guilt like this every time you can't protect a crewmate! That's _fucking_ pathetic if that's your plan!"

Enraged and not pleased with the cook's closeness, Zoro shoved him away with one hand. "Get that nose out of my face! I don't need you feeding this shit into me, so stick to your fucking cooking!"

Sanji glared at him madly, and that shove had nearly made him drop the bottle of sake. He shook his head, realizing that this was going nowhere. Fuck this obstinate idiot to hell and back. "You know what? Shame on me for trying to watch out for such a bastard shipmate! You must be thirsty after your insane, guilt-fuelled work-out. Here's something to quench you," he underhandedly threw the sake from its neck and barely even caught sight of the swordsman seizing it in a calm grip as he turned around. "It's quality shit, the kind I don't put out on the wine rack for assholes like you. Enjoy."

And with considerably heavier treads than normal, the cook was gone. Zoro glared at where he'd disappeared from behind the wall and then gazed at the sake in his shaking grip. He sighed, staring at his free hand palm-side up as his fingers trembled from a blend of muscle exhaustion and retreating anger. He looked out beyond the horizon and realized that the sun had already set, and turning up to the dusty, darkening sky he at last noticed the emerging stars.

Clutching the sake by its body, he wiped away the sweat on his brow. It was late, now. He'd trained enough. It was time for him to see how Luffy was faring.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Sanji was just exiting the galley with some tea and snacks to hold him over for his watch tonight, when he noticed Zoro climbing up from the latch of the men's sleeping area. He frowned, still bitter about his recent encounter with the mulish marimo, but couldn't help the small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The sound of a cork releasing caught his ears and he watched the guy's back as he took his first swig of the fine sake. With his tray in one balanced hand, Sanji stepped towards the railing in front of the galley and leaned on it with his free hand.

He broke into the quiet air teasingly, "So how's Luffy doing, marimo?"

Zoro didn't turn around, but his shoulders stiffened at the unexpected voice. "He's just as motionless as before."

Sanji spoke while he made his way down to the main deck. "Did Chopper fill you in on how he's recovering?"

"Yeah," the green haired man confirmed. "Knowing Luffy, he'll be over it in less than a week. Chopper says he should get some movement back in a day or two."

"That's good," the blond acknowledged, smiling subtly. "I think we can all count on Luffy to be dragging himself to the galley as soon as he's able to crawl."

Zoro gave a brief laugh as he lifted the bottle to his lips. He let the cool liquid burn down his throat and sighed harshly after swallowing it. This shit was definitely good. Then he noticed the cook staring at him with a mix of disgust and amusement. He glanced at the bottle, and then back to the cook who was now looking up at the crow's nest, his destination for the first half of the night.

Sanji decided it was time to climb up there. He didn't look back to Zoro when he said, "Well, happy drinking, marimo. Unlike you I've got responsibilities for the night."

"Hey," Zoro chased his words quickly, surprisingly without his own sense of usual control. But he felt like he owed something to the cook, somehow, for helping him out of that trance—that dangerous cycle of guilt and shame and perfection he sometimes allowed himself to flounder and spiral in. It was a fault of his and he knew it very well, but it was also very hard to snap out of. The cook's eye was on him now; he could see its glint even in the small light provided by dusk. He pointed the sake towards the blond in a gesture of offering. "Want some?"

Sanji didn't restrain his snort, or the terse guffaw that came after. "Two things, marimo. One, I don't drink that shit. Two, even if I did drink it, I wouldn't now since your mouth germs are all over it."

Zoro rolled his eyes at him, disguising his embarrassment well with a scoff. "You're so damn prissy, cook."

"Just civilized," the blond replied, shrugging one shoulder. But Zoro's offer to drink had been something different, and—curious of his conduct—he decided maybe a drink wouldn't hurt. He stared longingly at the comfortable haven of the crow's nest before settling on the more valiant decision here on the main deck. He placed his tray on a nearby barrel and said, "Alright, I'll get my wine. But _one_ glass only, and then I'm on strict watch duty."

They had a brief, civil drinking session that night, standing and leaning on the ship's side, looking over the moonlit ocean. There were insults thrown here and there, but they were, for the most part, just teasing prods. The cook conversed more than Zoro, which wasn't exactly surprising. When Sanji made a jab at the other's poor sense of direction, he began to talk about how back on the Baratie, he'd been progressively taught how to read the stars by their ship's navigator.

"But teaching it to you would be a lost cause," he expressed, sipping at the final amount of wine in his glass.

"Only because I don't care to learn," Zoro defended, his voice rough having just swallowed a gulp of sake. He turned to the cook at his right who looked a bit out of it with the stem of the wine glass between his fingers, twisting and dangling it above the sea. His expression was somewhat absorbed and preoccupied, with that faint smile Zoro only scarcely caught in the dark. And it looked familiar to him. Then he remembered why.

From his position, Zoro couldn't see where his eyes were looking beneath that golden bang, but he didn't need to see. The expression said enough. The cook was staring at the ocean in the moonlight, watching the sea yet again like he was trying to merge. It itched at him, this curiosity. He'd never seen anyone else gaze at the water like that, but it immensely suited the cook to do so, with that expression like he belonged to the water. Why did it suit him so much?

Sanji pulled out a cigarette and brought it to life, barely even realizing that he'd never responded to the swordsman. He inhaled and, after pocketing his lighter, he clasped the wine bottle perched on Merry's sidewall and clinked it together with his glass in one suitable grip. Then he said to the other, "Party time's over, marimo. Up I go." He subsequently shot the wine glass and bottle over to Zoro's chest. "Mind taking those into the galley for me before passing out? Thanks."

Zoro frowned with a deadpanned expression. "Fine, asshole."

Sanji turned and sighed exasperatedly. "I hope that wine won't make me sleepy up there. If I sleep on the job I'm blaming you, shitty swordsman."

"You'd be pathetic to pass out with such a wimpy drink."

The blond waved off the remark while walking away, not really wanting to delay his watch duty any longer. He picked up the tray from the surface of a barrel by the central mast and was glad at this point that he'd placed his tea in something insulating to keep it warm. As the cook went through these motions from such a distance, Zoro was able to observe the tilting line of Merry's deck while the ship swayed with the waves of the ocean. The blond's lengthy legs were unaffected by the movements, balancing that tray and concurrently picking up a blanket with ease. Those legs blended seamlessly with the ship's bends and swings, his steps merging with the sea's temperament. And it suited him so well.

Zoro finally saw what it meant to have true legs of the sea.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Please comment and tell me your thoughts! :)


	3. Coastal Swell

**AN:** Don't worry, I promise EM chapter 15 is being worked on. Promise! :S

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Seascape

Chapter 3: _Coastal Swell_

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Attachments. These were what he never strived for. He was aware that it was impossible to go through life without at least some of these, and it wasn't like he adamantly avoided such things… but he never did make an effort to tether himself to people. He supposed others would think him cold-hearted for it, he supposed they would find him strange, but he was never one to care about words thrown at him, or the looks that implicated these thoughts. Those kinds of judgements weighed a man down. He was the type to lift that weight to impossible heights; well beyond his shoulders, well above his head. He'd never let himself succumb to something like that.

For him, attachments came and went, leaving not much of a trace while he stepped beyond them, too focused to stop for anything but his own drives. They wandered like air currents, occasionally touching his skin but mainly drifting off to some other place far away from him. But there was one connection that never wandered; there was one girl's spirit that stayed with him which he fought for to keep a promise. He supposed that this was one of the few attachments in his life that drove him forward rather than keeping him at a stand-still.

And then he'd met his captain. It'd been unavoidable, forming that kind of a bond with someone who retained just as much willpower as him, and probably more. A boy with that much strength and leadership; his captain was well-deserving of his respect and his companionship. And wave after wave, the crew had become closer to him somehow, without it really hitting him. It'd been a gradual process and most of the time he felt numb to it, but it'd been something that baffled him in moments that pushed these friendships into the light.

There were moments that made it impossible to forget just how close these people had become to him, how much he truly did care deep down within. And in these times of intensity, these attachments he held with his crewmates became shockingly vivid to him. He didn't feel like he'd particularly done anything to mould these connections, they'd simply sprung up in his face from the crux of him; been brought down upon him like a tidal wave of massive proportions.

Buried deep within him, he did cherish these people. He'd simply learned a long time ago where to stow these feelings into the depths of his centre, and when to shine them outward towards the world.

And so as his crewmates had probably begun to notice, it wasn't very often that he made these bonds obvious. They existed in secret, and he admittedly sometimes wondered if they felt that link between them when he scarcely did. It did provoke a little bit of uncertainty within him—should he be feeling _something_, at least, with the crew at all times? Why did it take moments of such sheer _desperation_ for him to ultimately cleave himself open—bare and naked at his heart—spilling out these feelings of his? It required such a massive force to obdurately _squeeze_ it out of him. Was this something bad? Or perhaps it was just how he dealt with these things, naturally? These… attachments.

He'd been raised, for the most part, devoid of such things. There'd been nothing significant to tether him to his mother, and he'd never known his father. His training and meditation at the dojo focused on _releasing_ these attachments from the world, learning when to flow with them and when to let them go. Never when to forge them, or how. But it was something that probably had to be innate; something that couldn't be seen of as a concrete lesson.

He didn't quite understand it. And that's why these attachments he felt for his crewmates confounded him. That's why, whenever the cook stared at the sea like that—like he implicitly _belonged_—it deeply mystified him.

If he couldn't wrap his head around the supposed simplicity of human connections, how was it that the cook was able to bond with an _entire_ ocean?

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Their captain had recovered from the incident at Ground Zero within an astounding week of progress. Chopper had noted that any normal person would've taken weeks, maybe even months to kick all of the invading liquid-seastone out of their body. After this, they'd discovered Jaya and then had been incredibly shot into the sky by the knock up stream, landing on the white sea. In that marvellous sky island of Skypiea, they defeated a so-called God and sent a golden resonance down through the clouds, down to the descendant of a man who desperately needed to hear its message. Now, a day after their return to the blue sea and their conquering of the Davy Back Fight—luckily, in the end, without permanently losing any crewmates—they sailed on seeking their next adventure.

Chopper patched them all up from the beatings they'd taken on the previous island, and so the men walked about like mummies for the remainder of the day. In the evening, rain showered down on the ship, trapping them all inside the galley, sans Robin who remained in the women's bedroom with some coffee and a book. Soon enough though, Sanji kicked Luffy out since being confined with him in the presence of a fridge was an obvious recipe for disaster. Usopp and Chopper excitedly followed their captain into the rain when he declared it was time for a pillow fight in the boys' room.

Not too far off after that, Nami sat up to retire to her bedroom. Sanji made sure she had her raincoat on perfectly to protect her from the rain, and then gallantly opened the door for her.

"Good night, Sanji-kun," she said sweetly before stepping out into the pattering rain.

Sanji bid her a pleasant good night as well, and then watched until she was out of sight before shutting the door. It was just him and the marimo now, who was dozing off in the corner, hugging a bottle of sake with drool clinging to his bottom lip. The cook gave a small frown at the sight while he settled down at the table with his notebook. He opened it to the page he'd left off on, writing down the recipes he absorbed from their time in Skypiea. But as he tried to hold the quill in a steady grip, it instead did the exact opposite, wavering against his command and leaving shaky, unintentional ink marks on the clean paper. Inhaling deeply, he tried again to write with a stable, calm grip, but his right hand continued to disobey him. He slammed the quill down to the seam and leaned back in his chair, digging into his pocket for his cigarettes.

Sanji breathed out sharply through his teeth when his hands failed to be still even while lighting up. He let himself relax into the chair, his legs stretching out beneath the table, as he took in that sweet nicotine. This had happened before, too, while he'd been cooking. These unpredictable twitches in his hands. His limbs still tingled as well, from the insane amount of electricity he'd endured. There were burns on his body, and he stared in distaste at the irregularly placed bandages on his fingers. His hands and feet still felt kind of numb and they definitely felt scorched. It made doing his job particularly irritating. His legs and arms underwent a prickling sensation every so often. And then there were the bouts of trembling and the ephemeral muscle spasms. He knew all of this would blow over within a couple of days, but for the time being it was undeniably irksome.

Everyone else had their miseries that they were recovering from, anyway. He wasn't the only one.

The marimo wasn't snoring anymore—in fact his breathing was quiet—which let him know that he was awake. This meant that he was just loafing around, probably attracting some kind of mould in the process. Wasn't it his watch tonight, anyway?

The two of them hadn't really spoken much since leaving that previous, bizarre island. It wasn't any kind of tension; at least he didn't think so. Though, when were things not tense between them in some way? He didn't really care if he could classify their current air as strained, though. Sanji just found it strange, he supposed, that he only really noticed this minor void until he'd been left to simmer here with his smoke, alone with the marimo pretending to be asleep.

What was that idiot doing, anyway, pretending like that? As if he couldn't tell. Maybe he just didn't want to talk. But it was Zoro's watch tonight, so if that's what the guy really wanted, he would've headed up to the crow's nest already. Then Sanji remembered the rain.

"Hey," he said, directing his voice at him for the first time in hours. Zoro gave a grunt in accordance, not lifting his head, not even opening his eyes to acknowledge the cook. Sanji bit back his irritation, abusing the end of his cigarette. "Shitty night to be on watch, but you still gotta go up there."

Zoro opened his eyes slightly, before closing them again. "I will soon. Stop pestering me, damn cook."

"Someone's got to scrape your mould off of this ship before you rot the wood, lazy marimo," Sanji retorted, finishing up his smoke before twisting the life out of it in an ashtray.

This got Zoro's head up, and then an aggravated glare set in the cook's direction. "You want me to do something? I'll cut you up, how's that?"

The blond stood up menacingly, tucking the chair under the table. "You asking for a fight, seaweed-head?"

Zoro readjusted the sake in his grip and scoffed, "Heh. I wouldn't _ask_ you for anything."

Sanji breathed out roughly, grumbling under his breath before a loud gust of wind rattled at the wood of the ship's walls. Both of them turned their attention to the source of the noise, then Sanji picked up his quill and notebook and stepped towards the door, staring out the circular window. He hummed in intrigue, watching the rain drum against the glass and onto Merry's deck. "It's really coming down hard…" he mumbled. His gaze shifted to the coat hanger on his left, and he reached out for a rain jacket. "Alright, I'm off to bed. If I don't hear your obnoxious steps on the deck in ten minutes, I'm coming back to kick you up there."

"Don't stress yourself, shitty cook."

Sanji waved a dismissive hand at him, about to put on the rain jacket when he realized that it was the last one on the rack. "Ah, shit," he grumbled. After folding it over his forearm, he threw it at the swordsman's feet. The marimo would need it more than him tonight.

Zoro raised his eyebrows in surprise; the sake bottle poised at his lips. He lowered it from his mouth and asked teasingly, "What's this? Kindness? Sympathy?"

Sanji shot up the collar of his dress shirt as he prepared to step into an army of rain, his hand on the doorknob. "Think of it as pity. Have fun getting watered all night, plant-head."

"Always with the plant jokes—"

The door shut before Zoro grumbled out the rest of his drifting words, and with a frown he then shrugged at the cook's indifferent exit. He stared ahead of him across the galley at the opposing wall and sipped tenderly at his sake, reflecting on the cook's behaviour today. Or at least, what he'd seen of it through meal times and the occasional quest for booze. He'd noticed the blond's ever-so-slightly shaky grip when he placed down full plates for the girls at dinner time, and his soft curses while fiddling with his cooking utensils. And just now, when he'd fiercely given up on writing into that damn notebook of his.

It was very obvious that something was bothering the idiot cook. Based on what he'd observed, it was clear that his injuries were the cause. Everyone was recovering and Zoro himself had a lot of wounds and burns that still made him cringe. All of that electrical shock didn't exactly create a pretty after-feeling. But what made the cook's case peculiar was that it was interrupting his natural rhythm of things—like cooking; like scribbling into that notebook every evening. Zoro had been around him long enough to know that he wasn't the type to complain about painful injuries, and he most definitely didn't let them disrupt his daily routine. So it was thus something out of the ordinary.

Not that he cared, in the end. He was simply observing the disparity between the cook's normal behaviour after an intense adventure and his present conduct now. The moron probably needed to see Chopper about it, or something. Or, if the scrawny cook had any ounce of fortitude, he would stick it out and let it tide over.

Zoro unconsciously drummed his fingers along the glass of his near-empty bottle, tapping it with the rhythm of the rain. He fixated on the raincoat sprawled at his feet and a natural smirk tugged gently at the corner of his lips. He picked it up by the collar as he stood, and then swung it around himself, easing his arms into its sleeves. It was a damn miserable night to be on watch, that much was certain. However if he didn't get up there soon, he'd have to deal with the cook's incessant bitching; something he wasn't exactly itching to hear.

Besides, it wasn't like the rain hampered him in any way. It was mere water on his skin.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

_He opened his eyes and saw blue,_ pure blue hues of every nature stretching far beyond him at all angles. And he was in the centre of it all. It was so immensely beautiful, he could barely comprehend what he was seeing; could scarcely feel his own breaths. And strangely, in the back of his mind, he knew that he wasn't breathing, that such a thing was impossible. That he was floating within that cerulean blue without anything to take into himself except the sheer beauty of it all.

There were fish all over of all sizes, floundering off into that immeasurable distance and also tapping and hugging at his ankles and arms. There were little ones courageously weaving through his hair afloat; past his eyes. Curious little things.

He wasn't breathing but he was somehow comfortable. Embraced by a place he saw the surface of everyday; welcomed in this surreal and unfounded environment by her, the mother of this sea. Something soft stroked and interlaced with his fingers like ribbons of silk, and he drew his gaze down to it. He only caught a trace of blonde locks before they were gone; disappeared with the ocean. Then, as though born from the water, pale, smooth fingers clasped his hand. Squeezed his fingers, and he couldn't see anything else of her; just that hand clasping his, flickering and distorting with the sea. Trying to stay tangible in his world, but he felt inherently warm by this ethereal gesture, no matter its inconsistency.

With every touch—every attempt at otherworldly connection—his body felt a shock of paralysis, and the bright blue hues of this underwater paradise swiftly became dark indigos and navies. He was sinking with every touch—sinking down to a sea grave—but he couldn't tear himself away from those fingers entwined with his. Especially as they further solidified into a slim, womanly arm connected to the watery outline of her figure as he allowed her to drag him down. Allowed her to paralyze him, trusting her to take him somewhere profound. Completely lulled by this sense of trust; this deep, unspoken bond.

He hadn't felt much of himself—only incredibly buoyant, like being suspended in the sky—but soon her grip caused bouts of shocking pain from his fingertips and up his arm. It caused him to shiver, and as each electrifying jolt passed through him, he helplessly opened his mouth and curled up into himself in the darkening water. And then he truly grasped just how dark the sea had become.

He felt her hand flicker—their connection struggling to hold—and he squeezed desperately at her remaining finger. While burying his face into his knees, floating in this terrifyingly dark sea he held onto her for all he was worth. He didn't want her to leave him, somehow knowing that if that last finger scattered with the sea he would be drowned in this darkness alone. And maybe he'd been squeezing too hard—desperately needing the comfort of her presence—but her lone finger erupted, dispersing into the ocean and leaving him with nothing but an empty, clenched fist. Leaving him curled up in the dark; his lungs suddenly burning, his heart clenching and his body shivering with a paralyzing ache. He could scarcely move, feeling tremendously heavy; sinking like a rock into these massive aquatic depths. Like something earthen, not meant for the sea's embrace anymore. A part of her brilliant world no more…

And he was probably crying, not that it mattered in the ocean. But he was probably crying as the sea rushed into him; _a precious connection now lost in these miserable depths…_

He opened his eyes once more; awakening to what was real in this world now, no longer floundering in her oceanic realm. The only trace he felt of it left was a moistened path, painted from the corner of his eye to his temple. He breathed in authentic air and then let it go with a soft exhale.

Sanji was lying on his side, facing the back of the couch. He stared blankly at that blue material, in a post-dream trance before his hand began to involuntarily twitch by his thigh. He ignored it while shifting to his stomach, holding himself up on his elbows with a wince and then regarded his sleeping crewmates. Luffy, as usual, was snoring and hanging off the top hammock bizarrely with Usopp dangling below him. Chopper was sleeping peacefully on the opposing couch across the room.

He rubbed the remnants of tears from his eyes and sat up, his feet settling into the carpeted mat. As he sat there for a moment—seeing no sign of Zoro—he remembered the rain. But all he could hear were Merry's creaks and groans as she rode along the waves. There was no rain pattering above on the deck, and so he deduced that the showers must have ended by now.

After such an intense dream—but not one he was unused to—the blond felt an incredible urge to look at the water, even if it was still dark. He then stood with a wobble in the dim lighting, and stepped towards the cupboard which he exclusively used to neatly stow away his clothes. He slinked into a cream-white sweater, knowing that the open air would be cold and damp after the shower they'd received that evening. Sanji stalked towards the mast ladder in the centre of the room and, ignoring the aches of his body, he climbed.

Considerate of his sleeping crewmates below, he opened the latch as gently as possible, grimacing as he couldn't control the squeak it made while falling backwards onto the deck. He hopped up, feeling the moist wood on his palms in the process, and then wiped his hands on the fabric of his pants. He could feel that cold humidity on his clothes and skin while ambling towards the ship's side. He placed one palm onto the wood of the gunwale, uncaring of its dampness, and tried to see those calming waves as far as he could in the clouded moonlight. And while he couldn't see much in the darkness, simply hearing those splashes and feeling these sways soothed him enough to depend on them alone. He shut his eyes. He didn't need to see anything to believe that she was there. He didn't need that.

That dream told him nothing.

Up in the crow's nest, Zoro knelt with his arms dangling from the curved barrier, squinting down at the main deck to see who it was that hadn't been able to sleep. To his accurate prediction, it happened to be the cook. He settled his chin on the backside of his hand atop the wooden barrier, the hood of his raincoat drooping over his vision slightly. The rain had stopped around an hour ago, but even so, he only now flicked the hood behind him to his back. The swordsman leaned forward subtly, trying to get a better view of the cook with apparent insomnia.

The white sweater he wore made it easy to pick him out in the night, standing there with one arm outstretched to the gunwale. Honestly, what was he doing water-watching at this hour? Truth of the matter was, this wasn't the first time Zoro had seen the cook emerge from the hatch in the darkness of morning simply to watch the waves. In the beginning, when he'd first noticed these habits, he figured the guy had a case of insomnia. But soon, his time observing from the crow's nest told him otherwise. There was something more to it than that. Especially because it didn't happen consistently every night.

Mostly, the cook slept through the night like a log—a real peaceful sleeper, somehow not too surprising to Zoro given the blond's prissy obsession of keep his clothing unwrinkled. Other times, he'd seen or faintly heard the guy struggling with dreams or nightmares like some kind of plague. He'd seen this enough by now to know these trends of his after sleeping near him and coming back from watches.

He originally hadn't thought much of it—after all; it was only human to dream. However, Zoro was an observer at heart, and a man who went by gut feelings as well. These two traits in him proved to guide him towards a natural curiosity. Why, when the cook had difficulty sleeping, did he depend on the sea to make him feel better? What was it about the water that seemed to soothe him so? Was there any kind of connection between whatever dreams afflicted him and this immediate behaviour afterwards? His gut seemed to tell him yes.

His gut also told him it had to do with the cook's past, if anything. Which was something the swordsman was never prepared to delve into, and not just because this was _Sanji_—the guy on the crew he was the _least_ likely to emotionally attach himself to. Zoro was simply an observer; he didn't get into other people's business like that and he hoped in return no one would snoop into his. Additionally the mere _action_ of delving went so against his disposition, and he could barely tolerate the idea of doing it himself.

But just because Zoro had a knack for restraint didn't mean he wasn't still curious on some level. It was the uniqueness of the cook's behaviour that seemed to steer his thinking towards it.

And it was in moments like these—with this immense curiosity fuelling him—that he did wish forming attachments was something natural for him. For he was otherwise left in the dark. Most of the time, being left there didn't bother him, because attachments weren't a necessity for him to see other sources of light in his life. But moments like now, as he stared down at the back of the cook's blond head gazing out at something personal and private, he wished he could understand it; this _specific_ thing that he just couldn't grasp about the cook. He wished he could spot it; this _view_ that only the cook seemed to be able see on the surface of those waves.

These were glimpsing emotions for him. He wasn't sure if they were glimpses of something buried, stifled, gasping for air within him, or if they were flashes on their own; of something that didn't otherwise exist. But they showed up with intensity every time he spotted the cook in this state; drifting off into an exclusive world of his own like that. They swelled to the surface of him like some kind of strange, silent surge.

He wondered if anyone else on the crew felt this kind of curiosity towards him. Did they see it in the guy, too? Essentially see nothing? Only this invisible view that the cook was staring at?

His eyebrows furrowed when the cook finally moved, seeming to grab something out of his pants. Zoro guessed it was his lighter, but when he didn't see the noticeable flicker of it in the dark, he was confused. The cook then leaned on his arm, facing away from Zoro completely. His attention appeared to be on whatever it was that he'd pulled from his pocket. Then his blond head turned back to the sea.

Something struck him. He couldn't see much of the cook at all, but his slouched posture, his head facing the ocean… it felt to him like some kind of longing. A longing for the sea? A plea?

And then he remembered; the image of five legs converging into a circle of shoes perched on the rim of a barrel. Just before they'd set out onto the Grand Line, they'd stated their ambitions. What had the cook said, then? He was looking for something. His dream… what was it?

He didn't find it shocking that he didn't fully remember. At that point, the stupid cook had just been an addition, and an annoying one at that. Like he'd cared what the guy was after. Besides, this curiosity didn't sprout until they'd reached the Grand Line. That was when he'd begun to notice these peculiar habits of the cook's.

Zoro's head perked up when he saw the blurry form of the blond move, heading for the hatch. This was normal routine for him—coming up to look at the water for ten minutes, give or take, and then sauntering back to where he was supposed to be. Damn idiot. _Why_ did he do this?

What _wasn't_ routine, however, was the terse hiss that Zoro heard, prompting him to lower his eyes back to the deck, where the cook appeared to be holding his forearm. He was watching his hand closely, and then mumbled something. The sound of the waves had muffled the clarity of his voice. Probably a curse.

The idiot's muscle twitches must've been acting up on him again. Zoro had been aware of this after seeing Sanji fumble with his spatula that afternoon. Furthermore, it was obvious since he'd suffered through these as well—understandably, considering how many times he'd been electrocuted by Enel—though, as of now the twitches had left him. He thus rolled his eyes at the cook below, who was still trying to steady his arm, apparently.

He leaned over the edge of the crow's nest and quipped: "Just get Chopper to look you over already, dumb cook!"

At this, the man darted his head up, probably with some form of ugly scowl attached. "Fuck you, nosey marimo! Go back to your lazy beauty sleep!"

And before Zoro could retort, the cook disappeared into the hatch. He stared now at the empty deck, listening in reverie to the waves, before turning in his spot against the wood and crossing his arms to his chest.

Well, at least he could retrieve more booze now that the cook was out of sight. But this plan was soon put behind him. He wondered why it was that his energy simply felt so far away from him now as the entrancing splashes breached into his consciousness, draping over it, leaving his vision increasingly blackened by his own sinking lids.

He closed his eyes.

— ~ ≈ ~ —

Running low on supplies, they arrived at port in Davroq—a winter island—some days later in the late afternoon. Nami made quick orders before they all split up to carry out their responsibilities. Luffy went off with Usopp to a tool shop, but Nami didn't expect that to go to plan simply because Luffy was involved. Zoro stayed with the ship, since he didn't have any particular chores to attend to. Nami and Robin decided to shop leisurely together, and Sanji of course had to collect food, bringing Chopper with him as his assistant. The reindeer was understandably ecstatic to explore a winter island with his fur coat appropriate for the climate.

Chopper made an impressed sound as they made their way through the food district of town. Many of the buildings were attached and had a warm, cottage-like feeling in their design. Most of the walls were made of logs or covered in panels of wooden planks. Others were white with brown painted wooden strips crisscrossing overtop. The air was fresh from the cold, but the chimneys attached to each of the buildings gave them both a frequenting waft of smoke. Despite the cold, the market was still bustling and there were some stands out, while other businesses were indoors.

"I love this weather!" Chopper expressed, looking ready to twirl in his spot with glee.

Sanji peered down at the reindeer with a smirk. "You would with that fur coat of yours." He put his mitted hands around his arms as he followed up with: "We humans weren't made for this cold."

"Luckily you have a coat so you can still enjoy it!" Chopper replied happily.

Sanji concluded that Chopper was in one of those giddy states of his. He then turned his attention to the task at hand. But as he inevitably studied the architecture of the wintry town, he felt a drifting sense of nostalgia. A part of him felt familiar with the atmosphere here; another part said he was just tricking himself. Just because there was snow and people ambling about in heavy parkas and houses made to insulate didn't make it connectable to his hometown, wherever that may be. Those were two separate places.

But as he saw a small child bundling snow together on the ground while her guardian paid for some meat, vague memories passed him by. He remembered making clumps of snow like that, he remembered the shoes of strangers crunching past him in the snow while he waited and he remembered… sitting in front of a fire, wrapped in a blanket shared with his mother, protected by her arms and the insulating walls of a former home, somewhere.

Maybe this place in his mind was similar enough to where he stood now after all.

"Sanji…?" Chopper called.

He turned down to their little doctor. "Yeah?"

"You were kind of gone there, for a bit," Chopper said with a worried expression. "I was just saying, do you want to head into this bakery for some flour? I remember you said we needed some."

"Oh, yeah," Sanji agreed, staring at the bakery in question. "That'll be our first stop."

After buying the flour and various other baking needs, Chopper changed into his human form to carry everything while the blond sauntered down the snow-strewn cobblestone path, staring at his list in a tight mitted grip. Soon, the amount of items became too large and they had to use the aid of a wooden cart to carry their things.

Now, as Sanji poked and prodded at a slab of chicken meat, his hand shook slightly. These tremors were dwindling in frequency, but they were still there in all their intensity, nonetheless. He figured in a couple days they would be gone, but he was getting very aggravated with it, especially during the delicate moments of his cooking when a steady hand proved to be vital. Maybe there would be a quick fix if he talked to Chopper about it, in the end.

He paid the vendor for his meat and stacked it atop their other groceries. "Hey, Chopper," he called across from him. Chopper turned his attention Sanji's way with a short, compliant noise. "When we get back to the ship, I was wondering if you could look me over."

"What, something's wrong? What is it? Why didn't you tell me sooner, idiot!" Chopper worriedly rambled, before dropping an item and frantically picking it up. Then, he went on, "Doctors exist for a reason—"

"I know, I know, Chopper. Calm down. It's nothing serious, just an inconvenient thing, is all..." he said. "When you checked us over the other day, you said that all the electrocution we'd experienced might cause tremors and such, and, so… well, you got some kind of treatment for it? It's conflicting with my cooking and shit."

Chopper's hulking form stepped over to Sanji with an intense look. "You're experiencing a tingling or prickling sensation, too? Numbness or maybe burning?"

The contrast between Chopper's good intentions and his hostile form lurking over to him was amusing to say the least. Sanji nodded his head in response to the question, "Yeah, sometimes. And then I get convulsions, too… but we can talk about this on the ship when we get back—"

"Sanji, take off your gloves, or your coat, let me get a look at your skin."

Too late, he was in doctor-mode. Sanji stepped back with his hands in front of him. "Whoa, you're not taking off my clothing in this weather, no way! Just wait until we get back to treat me, okay!"

Chopper nodded, and tilted his head up in thought. "It's most likely paresthesia. I can give you an anticonvulsant, maybe gabapentin, or an immunosuppressant…" he rambled.

Sanji waved him off. "I don't care what you give me, as long as it works. Now push the cart, we're not done here yet."

Chopper nodded and then subserviently obliged. Their next stop was the liquor store since—as always when they docked—the wine rack was nearly empty thanks to that alcoholic moss head. Though he reluctantly admitted that lately he'd also put a bit of a dent in the wine stock, given that the two of them were beginning to make drinking before bed a slight habit. At the store, Sanji picked up some new wines to try as well as some liquors directly tied to the culture of this island. He wasn't a fan of hard liquors at all, but the people of Davroq appeared to be fond of vodka, which made him smirk with ill intentions.

One of his secret little goals on this ship was to try and get that far-too-tolerant marimo drunk. He'd witness the guy drink gallons—_barrels_—and still stand with two firm feet. Sanji found it ridiculously extreme. But seeing him drink like that only came at parties, where the alcohol tended to be some kind of crude mix; grog and whatnot. Not that it wasn't still absurd that the marimo didn't seem to feel much from how much he drank—that insane intake of alcohol surely should outweigh any kind of potency. The cook simply needed to see where his limit was, because there _had_ to be one.

And so as Sanji read the label of a rather potent vodka whilst also receiving the shop keep's approbation on the drink, he grinned. Unfortunately for the marimo—he would tell him—this island bore no sake, and so he'd have to make due with this.

Some time after buying the alcohol, Chopper and Sanji ran a few more errands—namely buying several packs of cigarettes—before the cook deemed the new stock satisfactory for their next stretch on the sea. They were now backtracking through the food district, making their way back to the ship as the sun began to set. Sanji watched his misty breaths spew out in front of him while still taking in the sight of the town. Somehow, this nascent feeling of departure was familiar deep inside him. He of course didn't feel the need to stay. He simply recognized the sentiment; like he had done this before.

"Sanji?" Chopper asked, now in his normal reindeer form, attached to the cart and dragging it behind him. Sanji was unusually quiet on the way back. He hoped that the blond had told him everything about his health. "Is something wrong? Do you have an injury you're not telling me about?"

Sanji chuckled as he rummaged around in the bag slung around to his side for a fresh cigarette from a new pack. "No injuries I'm keeping a secret from you, Chopper. Quit your worrying."

"Mm," Chopper murmured uncertainly, turning his eyes back to the path in front of him. "Okay."

As Sanji lit up and walked beside the winter-raised reindeer, he was grinning with a realization. Maybe Chopper would understand this feeling after all. "You love when we dock at winter islands, don't you?"

Chopper looked at him strangely, before his animal eyes gleamed with joy. "Of course! I was made for this weather; it always feels so nice being on winter islands!"

Sanji breathed out, the smoke indistinguishable from his normal breaths. He manoeuvred past a man in a heavy parka within a crowd spell, and when it passed he spoke up again. "It's not just that, though. It reminds you of your home?"

Chopper nodded softly, again focussing his eyes before him. "Yeah. The culture can never be exactly the same, and the houses look different, but, there's just this feeling of nostalgia. But I guess, in the end, it's just the cold and the snow that makes me think back to Drum Island."

"It's probably not only that," Sanji conveyed. "It's nostalgia for a reason. It's gotta be more than that. Something that _really_ ties you back."

"Maybe then, it's…" he glanced around at the civilians peeking at him while they passed, and the gawping looks he'd especially received in his human form. "Maybe it's the people giving me weird looks."

"That could be it," Sanji surmised, feeling a pang of guilt for bringing up such lonely memories for Chopper. "Though you _are_ a talking reindeer. But, still, maybe that's it." There was some silence before he continued. "You want to know what it is for me?"

Chopper nodded. He remembered hearing that Sanji was born in North Blue back in Jaya, and definitely wanted to listen to what the cook had to say.

"It's really weird. It's these people, walking around in their big coats, trying to keep warm. It's the snow, it's the cold. It's the buildings, the whole atmosphere. It's not exact, but it's close enough to what I remember. Picturing these people sitting in front of their fireplaces, it gives me so many memories I sometimes forget about. But it doesn't remind me of home," he elaborated. "But being here reminds me of a home that could have been, I guess. Like fake nostalgia, or something. Leaving it now, too, feels like I'm doing it all over again."

Chopper stared at his friend in wonder. Some of those little details Sanji mentioned, he so naturally understood in his own intimate way. He remembered imagining humans curled up in their warm houses by their fireplaces, wanting to be a part of it when he couldn't huddle with his own kind. Wanting to be inside those beautiful structures, those buildings so foreign and enthralling amidst the lonely cold. Wanting to be sheltered. Wondering why he was something in between, not wanted by anyone. Not needing a coat but able to wear one. He guessed, the only thing that really stayed by him was the snow and the cold. That and two humans who'd given him a chance; taken him in. And then he realized.

"It's the cold and the snow," he said softly. "And it's the people giving me strange looks, too. But it's these things plus my nakama at my side that really makes it feel nostalgic."

Sanji looked down at Chopper with an intrigued expression, before smiling subtly around his cigarette. He didn't say anything else; he'd gotten what was on his mind off of his chest. And though Chopper could never understand things from his point of view, the reindeer definitely felt that same connection to winter islands. Albeit with much more intensity than himself, but they both felt it all the same. It was something they connected on.

Then, Chopper broke him from his thoughts. "Did you feel like this on Drum Island?"

And he responded, "Yeah, I did." Moments later, he added, "Honestly, I'm just glad I didn't have to grow up with such shitty weather."

Chopper laughed. Minutes later, they arrived in the pub section of town. Chopper spotted a familiar green haired man meandering through crowds forming at the entrances, since it was sundown. "Hey, isn't that…?"

"That idiot marimo…" Sanji grumbled, his teeth already clenching over the filter of his cigarette. "He'd better be back by the time we're ready to leave. I swear if he inconveniences Nami-san's schedule…"

"I'm sure she made him very _aware_ of her schedule," the reindeer said uneasily. She probably had threatened him with payments again, or maybe a good knock on his skull. "He was watching the ship, so somebody must've returned if he's out here."

"Either that or he's an idiot, like always," Sanji responded harshly. He sighed in exasperation when he witnessed Zoro enter the pub. "What we should worry about is whether or not that moron will find his way back."

"He found his way there, at least."

"Not surprising. Pubs are one of the rare locations he miraculously manages to find intentionally," he jabbed.

Chopper agreed: "It's magic..."

"It really is," Sanji concurred. "Anyway, let's head back for now and see what the plan is. If we end up sailing off without him, I'm fine with that."

"You don't think that'd happen, do you?" the reindeer asked, sincerely worried. "I don't want to leave Zoro!" The cook gave him an incredulous glare and he realized his misunderstanding. "Oh… that's mean, Sanji!"

— ~ ≈ ~ —

An hour into his time at the pub, Zoro demanded another vodka. He liked the stuff, it was incredibly strong. So far, strong enough to even get him a little bit tipsy. It was a nice challenge, resisting its effects, especially with the amount he'd tipped back. He was gathering quite the crowd; they all cheered him on as he finished off another. Finally, diminished the hype with a bathroom break and when he came back, a tanned girl with long legs and rich, ponytailed auburn hair was seated in his spot. She looked very young despite the length of those legs—couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen to him.

He shrugged it off mentally and took a spot two seats from her. Of course he noticed when the woman shifted over, claiming that space between them. She leaned on her palm, elbow on the counter, and blatantly stared at him with a smirk. His eyes narrowed while he gazed ahead of him at the various bottles behind the counter.

"Roronoa Zoro of the Straw Hats, are you not?" she asked slyly, her voice raspy. Attractive voice, she had.

"You want something?" he asked stoically, still not turning his eyes to her. He snaked a calm hand around his fresh glass of beer, no vodka this time.

"I do have something that I want," she responded, tapping her nails on her glass. He looked at her just as she sent him lustful eyes. "Something I want very badly, in fact."

Well, here was another woman trying to pick him up. Every time he came to these random port town bars, he'd get at least one woman trying to get into his pants. He didn't really get it—it wasn't like he intentionally sent out signals like that—but it was annoying, nonetheless. As if they just expected him to carry them off and fuck them… like that contained any ounce of self-respect. He was very prideful in whatever he did, and so sex was something that had to take place at the right time, with the right person.

In essence, it was another one of those connections that he simply didn't have the time, or the will, to make. And a one night stand was massively short of being a meaningful bond to begin with, and thus not worth a scrap of his time.

"Sorry," he said, deciding to be blunt. It was the best way to deter the unwanted attention. He put the glass to his lips and made it clear: "Fuck someone else."

Her lips were cushioning on his ear now, brushing past his earrings. He shifted away, but she gently took his chin and positioned him back. Then she whispered, "This is all for show. I don't want to fuck you. But I do want information."

His eyes widened. "What kind of information?" he said back to her, lowly.

She kissed his cheek, and Zoro's teeth clenched while she brought those lips back to his ear. "I'm not with any organization, I'm just looking for a place that I hear your crew has been to. Can we step into a back room to chat about this more… comfortably?"

Zoro brushed his fingertips on the hilt of Wado, before stating, "Ask me anything I can't answer, and I won't. Anything goes funny like some kind of ambush, be prepared to regret you ever messed with me. Got that?"

She was already on her feet. Grabbing him by the hand, she led him up the stairs and into an unoccupied room. After shutting the door, she let go of his hand and took a seat on the bed. She motioned for him to join her, but he refused, instead stepping into the room with apprehension.

She placed her hands on her thighs, those long, slender legs bending in an upward slope and then skyrocketing down to the floor. Then, she introduced herself. "I'm Nadin. Sorry for making you uncomfortable out there."

"Just get to what you wanted to ask," he demanded.

"Rumour has it you and your crew made it to Skypiea, the island in the sky?" she said, her light brown eyes glistening with a tired but still jubilant kind of hope. Still fighting its demise.

He found it shocking how much he recognized that strained, exhausted hope in her eyes. It was like she became invisible, and he saw into her life; all the days, weeks, _years_ put into finding an island in the sky. Seeking a dream always out of her grasp, but very much real in her heart. Not to mention real in the world, because he'd been there of course. And he realized he could bring this hope of hers to life.

So he nodded. "We made it there."

Nadin smiled brightly. A hope rekindled back into explosive life. "It exists…?" she said, that husky voice cracking with restrained emotion. Then, she stood, speaking with awe. "You were really there?"

Zoro confirmed again with a nod.

"Me and my father have been sailors for as long as I can remember, looking for Skypiea. It's both of our dreams to find it. We dig into every lead we can, and we were in Jaya when we heard that your crew made it there… we had been heading to Jaya while you were up there!" she stated excitedly. "So we tracked you here. Please," she continued, "Please tell me how you got there. Please tell me everything."

Zoro sighed before settling down on the base of the bed. He began telling her about the knock up stream, and its timing as well as how it shot their ship into the sky. He told her about the white sea, about the geography of the sky island. He mentioned that the place had just gotten over a huge ordeal, but they would probably be welcomed there since it was the 'blue sea dwellers' that'd saved their island in the end. He told her to head back to Jaya, to look for Montblanc Cricket, because he would gladly help them reach the island with the knock up stream.

"It's right above Jaya…?" Nadin said in disbelief. She groaned in happy frustration. "We were right there!"

Zoro smirked, then sat up and headed for the door. "Good luck," he waved behind him.

"Wait," she called, causing him to halt. She spoke softly, the implications obvious from that tone alone. "I want to thank you."

He turned halfway, wary. "So, what? You were planning to seduce the information out of me from the start, and now that you've got it, you're still—"

"My father would kill me, but you're right. That was my plan, no matter how much it took. I love my dream much more than my pride. I'd have slept with you if I had to. Luckily, you're a decent man, I didn't have to. So…" Nadin stepped forward, not seductively, just normally. Leisurely. "I only want to thank you, now."

Her thin hands made smooth contact with his cheek. He almost recoiled, but something in her expression told him that this girl needed this. It was a surreal moment for him, but the desperation in her form forced him to let her be thankful for giving such precious information to her. Her lips kissed his mouth, gently, motionlessly. Just remained there. He stood as still as the kiss, simply allowing her to give her thanks. He wondered if he was supposed to feel something from this, and then disregarded the thought. This meant nothing to him as it should. Just a girl giving him her thanks.

Then, Nadin pulled back.

He turned his head away from her eyes, slightly embarrassed at what he'd just permitted. "Couldn't you have just said 'thank you'…?"

"Oh I know," she spoke with jest, her voice heightened. "But you're incredibly good looking, I couldn't pass that up!"

His jaw dropped and he could feel an aggravating flush to his cheeks. "Wha—you… hey!" he stuttered.

Nadin smirked. "Really though," she spoke sincerely, her brown eyes alive with a fiery hope that couldn't be extinguished, now. "Thank you."

— ~ ≈ ~ —

After Sanji and Chopper made it back to the ship, the sun had nearly disappeared behind the horizon and about an hour later, Luffy and Usopp made it back with new supplies that their sniper had gone on about. In that time Chopper gave Sanji a treatment to make his temporary condition more convenient for him and his cooking. Nami of course demanded that someone needed to go look for Zoro, as she wanted to leave the freezing island post-haste. Chopper mentioned that he and Sanji had seen what bar Zoro entered, and so Nami demanded that one of the two go to fetch him.

And so here Sanji was—ever so devoted to his lovely navigator—sitting with a bunch of drunken brutes, refusing alcohol for what had to be the fiftieth time, and waiting for the marimo to emerge from the room where he was undoubtedly fucking some random, smashed woman. What the bartender had told him about that shitty swordsman's actions not only surprised him—who knew the asexual plant actually had a libido?—but it also royally pissed him off. Even to say he was pissed was a _humungous_ understatement. At first the information had dented his pride—after all, _Zoro_ getting a lady over him! But now as he meditated on it, he acknowledged that he would _never_—despite the obvious temptations—take advantage of a random, lustful woman, and _especially _not an intoxicated one. The very idea went against his chivalrous principles.

He drummed his fingers along the wood of the bar table, bottling his fury and exerting it in spurts of tetchy gestures. It was far too damn surreal. As if thinking of Zoro in any way sexual wasn't hard enough for him to grasp—though, inevitably, he'd felt some curiosity on that topic before—but he never imagined the pirate hunter he'd grown to subtly know as the type to partake in bar-girl sex. Well, obviously he just didn't know Zoro.

He supposed he couldn't judge the marimo, in the end. Sometimes these long stretches at sea drove him a little sexually mad, too. He simply hoped that the woman Zoro'd picked up—and any of them in the past, he supposed—hadn't been taken advantage of. That would just be too lewd.

The bartender's sudden twist in the direction of the staircase caused him to echo the action. And there the marimo was, descending with a young woman who had some of the best legs the cook had ever laid eyes upon. Sanji tried to read Zoro's face, but it was stoic, as it tended to be—something that really irked him—and so he instead studied the girl for any kind of indication. He knew what had occurred in there, it was far too obvious to be dismissed as anything other than a sexual encounter. But he found himself searching for a reason _not_ to kick the marimo sky-high in that moment.

However, that reason wasn't found within the blissful expression on her face. Smiling like that, glowing like a woman who'd just been given the world. He grumbled under his breath just admitting it to himself, but she looked positively over the moon while stalking out of the pub.

So the marimo had banged a thoroughly attractive girl and produced that expression on her face? So what? It didn't change the fact that she must've been drunk and he'd taken advantage. That marimo was such a callous asshole, doing things like this as he pleased…

With an uncontrollable scowl, Sanji fluidly slipped off of the stool while taking a drag from his cigarette. There was a crowd but he saw Zoro's form weaving through, catching a quick, sharpened glance from the swordsman and scowling in response. Sanji blew a deliberate smoke stream into the other's face when he approached.

Zoro seemed to ignore the rude action. "Time to go?" was his only response.

Sanji simply glowered at him before turning towards the exit. He could feel Zoro's presence following him, and it somehow felt very serious. He could have laughed… so the marimo didn't like anyone knowing he was an evolving plant-head with sexual needs, huh?

Soon the two of them were out of the pub and into the cold night, Sanji leading some steps ahead. And while they walked in silence, the cook's frustration and displeasure with Zoro's actions almost produced a voice. Almost. Usually Sanji would be the type to scold a man for treating a lady so disrespectfully, but this kind of thing… as angry as he felt, this kind of scenario between them wasn't earned. He realized he didn't have the right to advise Zoro what to do with his dick, that this wasn't an appropriate topic to discuss with him. He knew his place.

But, Zoro brought it up for him, seeming to read his mind. "Nothing went on in there, dumbass."

Sanji smirked around his cigarette with a scoff. "I dunno, perverted marimo. She looked pretty damn pleased walking down with you."

"Maybe that's because I made her dream of finding Skypiea a reality. She wanted to know how to find it, that's all," Zoro clarified sharply. "And _you_ of all people can't call me a pervert."

"And you had to hear this in a backroom?" Sanji argued.

"I was _dragged_ to that room—"

"Ah, whatever," the cook cut him off, waving a hand behind at the swordsman. "Do what you want. I'm not here to babysit you… or, actually I am, since you would never find your way back to the ship without me."

Zoro subtly raised an eyebrow and stated calmly, "You can think what you like, shitty cook. I didn't do anything with that girl, that's a fact to me and that's all that matters."

"I find it hard to believe that a beautiful girl like that—with _legs_ like that—dragged you into a backroom and only wanted to chat," Sanji stated, keeping his mitted hands in his coat pockets. It was a cold winter night, and he found himself wanting to get back to the ship soon, so he picked up his pace.

Zoro let loose a short, condescending laugh. "That's because your mind is always full of dirty thoughts. You're jealous of nothing and it's a waste of energy so stop."

"_Jealous_?" Sanji stopped in his place, finally turning around to properly face the idiot swordsman in the street. "You think I'm jealous?"

"With the way you just described her, yeah, I'd say I _know_ you are."

The cook couldn't hold back his frustrations much longer, here. Not with such ridiculous accusations. "You really think I'm so lecherous to be jealous of a one-night-stand?" Sanji said incredulously, stepping up to Zoro and planting an awkward mitted finger onto his chest. "Let me tell you something. There's a fine line between appreciating a lady's beauty and _respecting_ it. You seem to think I blur somewhere in between, you idiot."

"It's hard to tell when you bounce from gallantry to perversity in a wink."

Sanji's frown twitched at the corner of his mouth and he took his finger from Zoro's chest, but not without giving the other a sharp prod. "I think we're off topic. _You're_ the one bedding random girls at pubs."

Zoro sent him an amused expression. "What an accusation. Even if I was, which I'm _not_, what business of it is yours?"

"I have _everything_ to do with protecting innocent ladies from a green lech like you!"

"_I'm_ the lech now, seriously? You make no sense, moron. This conversation is going nowhere," the swordsman said, terminating the topic. "Just shut up and let's get back to the ship already, cook."

They walked in complete, uncomfortable silence for most of the way back. Sanji watched the town go by under natural moonlight and some streetlamps, feeling a blanket of nostalgia wrap him up in this cold, snowy town. He let his memories run away from him with flickers of comfortable fire and the sensation of warm, loving arms keeping him away from the cold.

He didn't even think about the question before he spoke it aloud. "Did you let that girl know where to go?"

Zoro looked up from the icy pavement with dull intrigue. "Yeah."

Sanji smirked around his cigarette. He could never be certain about what Zoro had really done in there with that girl, but the glow she'd emanated certainly felt like something genuine deep within her. He knew from that that Zoro had given her something indefinitely precious. The actualization of a dream. _Good_… he thought. "Good."

So he'd made a lady's night after all. He could forgive the marimo for that.

Zoro stared at the cook's back after that one-word response. And while they approached the Merry, he couldn't help but notice a grand atmosphere exuding from the guy. It was something… inexplicable to him, but it was there, a jumble of powerful emotions invading his air. Creating an ambience which seemed to surge, swell; cause something to shift inside of the swordsman.

He connected the context of the situation, of a girl who was about to have a dream realized. The cook did indeed hold a little jealousy within him, after all. Standing before him in that moment was a man intensely longing for his dream.

— ~ ≈ ~ —


End file.
